Fade to Black
by tbka
Summary: WiP: .::Ch. 15 Up!::. Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity? ..:.. A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness: the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi.
1. Prologue

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity ..:.. A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **This will be a long story, very long, and who knows when I will be able to update it. Just please be patient. Possible graphic scenes in future chapters (just to warn you)…including possible (but not yet determined as actually happening) child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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**Prologue**

They always fight; from the day I was born I've always remembered they're fighting. Arguments; screaming matches that never turned to physical blows but yet came so close far too many times.

I'm not an idiot; I know it's because of me. They always fight over me.

Father says I'm a genius; that I'm born to be a great shinobi like himself and my mother.

Mother says I shouldn't train to be a shinobi, she says she doesn't want me to live such a hard life. She cries when she says that she doesn't want to send me to a certain death. Father never listens to her.

They told me I could make my own choice, but at five years old I don't think I know what I really want.

The question isn't should I become a shinobi or not, the question is should I trust father or mother?

I want to make my father proud but I don't want to hurt my mother. I'm torn between them both and I don't know what to do. Father says I can easily become a famous shinobi, he says I'm gifted, amazing, and full of natural talent. Mother says that she doesn't want me to die when I'm just a kid. She says that it's the middle of a war, she says that she fears I'll be pushed too hard too soon because they'll be a shortage of shinobis.

Softly I open the door of my room and walk down the hall. I take a deep breath before I enter the kitchen.

As soon as I come into sight they stop talking and turn to face me, their eyes full of anger; anger that's not directed at me but rather at each other.

"Mother, father," I whisper before they can try to sway my decision, "I want to enter the Academy."

I watch as father's anger starts to fade and a smile begins to crease his face, "I knew you'd make the right choice," he tells me. I can hear the relief in his voice.

I don't think he ever intended me to not become a shinobi, no matter what my mother, or I, said. It's always been father's way or no way at all.

Mother doesn't say a word; she just turns and walks away. Walks right out the front door and doesn't turn back to acknowledge me, to say anything.

"Mother?" I question as the door swings shut behind her.

"Don't mind her son," father says, pride filling his voice, "You're going to make us both proud. I know you will!"

I look up and just smile right back at him.

**_/3 Months Later/_**

"I knew you'd make me proud," Father whispers to me, rustling my hair with his hand, "I knew you had amazing talent."

I turn my head to look up at him and smile. All I want is to make him proud, and being the first ninja to graduate the Academy in only three months has definitely made him proud. Especially since I'm only five years old.

"Father?" I quietly ask, careful not to interrupt the ceremony currently going on, "Is Mother going to come?"

"No."

The sternness in his voice doesn't allow for any questioning on the matter. I sigh, trying to hide my disappointment and sadness.

I haven't seen her since she left that day three months ago, that day when I decided to become a shinobi.

And I can't help but feel guilty.

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**_ Author's Notes: _**_Should I continue? Should I stop? Is it any good or is it really crappy? Construct critiscm is welcomed...please Read and Review. You're reviews shall determine whether I continue this story or not. It's future is in YOUR hands!_


	2. Chapter One

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_Yes I'm aware it's short. The next chapter is longer and should be up by the weekend. Hope this chapter meets everyone's expectations!_

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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_**Part of The Kakashi Chronicles, that currently include (in chronological order):**  
Fade to Black  
Black Day  
Self-Sustained Hell  
Left Behind_  
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I hate coming here; I always have. But father says we have to go every now and then, father says we need to show him we care.

I haven't seen him in over a year and I don't want to face him now. I know what he'll say. He'll be angry at me, he'll tell me I drove mother away. I won't be able to deny it because we all know it's true.

I smell the bitterness of apple pies as we walk closer to the door. I hate apple pies. I used to love them, mother used to make them all the time. Now, since mother left, I hate them.

Father knocks on the door and a woman opens it. I recognize her, the baker of the apple pies, Leia.

Father makes casual conversation as we enter the house. I stay silent. Father tells me to wait in the living room and I do. I can hear the two of them whispering in the kitchen. I'm not deaf like they seem to think I am.

They always whisper about me when we're here, thinking I don't notice or that I can't hear them. In fact, ever since I became a Chunin a month ago everyone whispers about me everywhere I go. It's why I started wearing the mask like my father, to try and hide from them, to try and go unnoticed.

To try and disappear.

Another voice enters their conversation, a deeper voice, a sadder voice. I instantly recognize it. It's the one we came to visit. The one that is going to judge me. The one who is going to hate me. It's the one that everyone knows as the Hatake in the wheelchair.

It's my brother, Senji.

Father once told me that Senji has incredible chakra control, that he would've made an amazing shinobi. He would've been better than father, he would've been better than me. But when he was born, eighteen years ago, he couldn't walk. He's lived his whole life in a wheelchair.

He's been paralyzed from the waist down since birth.

Father once told me that I was a miracle child. Mother wasn't supposed to be able to have any children. Senji was a miracle child too, except he was born disabled. I wasn't just born, I was born perfectly healthy. I was a true miracle child. Father's perfect son.

I don't remember a time when we all lived together as a family. By the time I was born Senji was twelve and had moved out. Living with a caretaker in a more easily accessible house for him. Learning how to be independent with his disability. That caretaker was Leia, who he's now married too. At eighteen he's married and living on his own.

At six I'm the youngest Chunin in Konoha history.

Does that mean I'm better than him? Does that mean father is more proud of me? I don't know. But what I do know is that it's wrong for me to hate coming here. It's wrong for me to hate seeing my father spend time with Senji. I hate when father focuses his attention on other people. I want him for myself and only myself. I know that's wrong but I can't help it.

Everyday I question if my father really loves me. I don't recall him ever hugging me like the other father's hug their kids. He never picked me up from the academy. We've never gone to a movie together, or gone fishing together, or any of that stuff the kids used to talk about at the academy. All we ever do together is train. Is that true love? Or is what those other kids experience true love?

He hasn't been the same since mother left, which is my fault. I drove mother away. So maybe he's just punishing me. Maybe he's not loving me because I took mother away from him. Maybe he makes me sit in the living room when we come here because he can't stand too look at me, can't stand to see me sitting beside Senji.

If mother would come back than father would be happy again. Than I would be happy again. Maybe I have to go find mother and bring her back. Maybe this whole thing is a test. Yes, that must be it. Father must be testing me to see if I love him. If I love father than I'd go find mother and bring her back.

"He hasn't been the same since then," I hear my father whisper.

"Have you told him yet?" Senji asks.

Tell me what? Has father been hiding something from me? And if so, then why? And what?

"No…" my father replies, I can hear the grief in his voice, "I'm still hoping that she just got captured and didn't get killed. I'm still hoping she'll come back."

"That's fool's hope," Senji mutters, "Just plain old fool's hope."

She got captured? Who got captured? Is he talking about mother? Is mother dead?

"Until they find her body I refuse to tell Kakashi that his mother is dead. I need proof before I break his heart," my father whispers so quietly I can barely hear him.

But I do hear him.

Mother's dead? How could mother be dead? She's a shinobi, an ANBU, one of the best of the best. She can't be dead. I refuse to believe she's dead. This is just another test. Father's just saying this on purpose, knowing I'll overhear. He's doing it to see if I've matured, if I'm not a little cry-baby anymore. And I'm not so I won't cry. I would never cry over something that isn't true anyways.

I'm a shinobi, and shinobis are strong. Shinobis don't cry. Even if they're mother's are dead they don't cry.

I can taste my salty tears as they soak their way through my mask. Why am I crying? She can't be dead. She can't be dead so there's no need for me to cry. No need at all.

"Kakashi?" my father whispers in concern and I raise my head to look at him, standing in the doorframe, "What's wrong?"

"She's dead, isn't she?" I mutter, "I heard you, I heard you say…she's dead."

"Kaka…"

"Why?" I interrupt, my voice growing angrier with every word, "Why did you lie to me? Why did you hide this from me? Why did you keep telling me she was going to come back when you knew all along that she was dead? WHY!"

"Kakashi," my brother soothes as he wheels his way into the room, "Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" I scream, the tears flowing in torrents down my face, unstoppable, "I did this! It's my fault! She left because of me!"

"Kakashi," my father whispers, now kneeling in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, "This isn't your fault. There's no need to blame yourself for something that was out of your control."

"But it wasn't out of my control!" I retort, "She left because I disappointed her! Mother's dead because of me!"

"Son, this isn't…"

"Now I know," I sob, interrupting my father, "Now I know why you never hug me, or take me fishing, or do anything the kids at the academy do with their fathers. You can't stand to look at me. I killed mother and you hate me for it."

'That isn't true. I don't know where you get these thoughts but they aren't true," I hear my father say, desperately trying to get me to calm down and listen to him. But I don't listen. I'm tired of always having to listen and never being able to talk.

I try to back away from him but he's holding on to me too tightly, "Let go of me," I growl, "Let me go."

"Kaka…"

"LET ME GO!" I scream and to my surprise he does let me go.

At least, I think he did. Maybe not. He's sitting a few feet away from me now, his eyes staring at the palms of his hands. They're burnt; I can see that they're burnt. But how? Did I do that? Did I hurt my own father?

Why? I didn't mean too, I didn't mean to hurt him.

I turn around, bolting for the door. I slam it shut behind me and run as fast as I can down the street. Away from them all, away from their accusing eyes. I don't watch where I'm going and I don't care. I just need to get away from them.

Really I'm just trying to get away from myself. But that's impossible. So I'll just run away from all of them, the people who look like me, who remind me of myself.

I stare at the ground, not looking up, not wanting to face anyone. My tears blur my vision but I don't bother to wipe them away. I can hear them whisper about me, all around me their voices mutter in mixed awe and fear. They're proud of me, proud of having such a strong and promising shinobi coming from their village. But they're also afraid of me, afraid of my strength, afraid of what I might become. I can hear the fear in their voices. I can smell it in the air, everywhere I go.

Something makes me stop, some unseen force. Some sense of my own tells me to stop running. I look up to find myself at the entrance of the Hokage tower. Two guard shinobis look at my quizzically.

"Hatake Kakashi," one of them says. I recognize the voice; I just can't quite place it, "What is wrong?"

I sniffle, wiping the tears from my eyes with my left sleeve. I shake my head and take a few steps back. I want to run away from them all, all the accusing eyes. They know. Everyone knows that mother died because of me.

I bump into something. A leg. I tilt my head back to look at who I've accidentally bothered.

Jiraiya.

I see concern is his eyes, hear it in his voice as he says something but I don't listen. And I don't know if it's because I choose not to listen or if I just can't listen.

He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around as he kneels down. Trying to get to my level. That's one of the things I hate about being so young; the height difference. Because I'm so short people automatically think I'm vulnerable and helpless and need to be cuddled and protected.

I don't. I'm not vulnerable, I'm not helpless. I'm a Chunin. A shinobi of the Hidden Village of Leaves. I don't need to be protected. I'm strong, just like every other shinobi in this village.

"Kakashi?" I hear Jiraiya ask in concern.

Relief floods my brain. I can hear now. I don't understand why I couldn't before but at least I can know.

"Kakashi, what's wrong? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

I look into his familiar face. Father and him are always talking to each other. Sometimes in a serious matter, sometimes in a joking matter. I guess they're friends. I've always wanted a friend but all the kids are terrified of me. Terrified of my strength. They act like I'm going to kill them just because I can. I stopped trying to convince them that I won't. I ran out of strength to argue with them.

"Kakashi?" he continues to probe, desperately trying to get an answer out of me.

"Mother's dead," I finally whisper, "I overhead father telling Senji," fresh tears unwillingly fall from my eyes and sobs choke my breath, making it hard to speak, "Father hates me. I drove mother away. Got her killed. Everybody hates me."

"Kaka…"

"Don't tell me it's not true!" I scream, "I might be young but I'm not an idiot! I see the hate in their eyes!"

I turn around and try to run away but he grabs my left arm. Forces me to stop.

"LET GO OF ME!" I scream.

I can feel chakra building up in my body. I don't know why. I should be able to control it but I can't. It starts to burn. Spreading through my body. It grows stronger, more painful with every second. Sets my muscles on fire.

I hear screaming but I don't bother to try and figure out whose voice it is. I feel my body hit the ground but I don't care. I curl up into a little ball, hugging my knees close to my chest. It doesn't help. Tears stream down my face. I can feel their coldness on my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain and stop the tears but it doesn't help.

Finally I realize that the screaming is my own. I force myself to stop, force myself to get in control. The pain starts to reside, becoming a dull burning inside of me instead of a raging fire. I can't stop the whimpering coming from my own throat.

"Kakashi?" I hear my father whisper.

I cautiously open my eyes to stare into the blurry face of my father. I blink a couple times to clear the tears and he comes into focus.

"It hurts daddy," I whimper, "It burns, like there's a fire inside of me."

"It's going to be okay," he soothes, picking me up and cradling me in his arms.

"Make it stop daddy," I plead, "Please, make it go away."

"Just hold on for a bit longer, okay? It's going to go away very soon, just be strong."

I nod, closing my eyes and resting my head against my father's chest. Faintly I hear the voices of my father and Jiraiya and I desperately try and focus on them to distract myself from the pain.

"I don't know what happened," I hear Jiraiya say in confusion, "He got angry and there was so much chakra that came from his little body," he sighs, "Maybe he opened one of the eight resistance gates?"

"It happened earlier too, also when he got angry," my father replies, also sounding confused, "But opening one of the gates at his age? That's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible for him. After all, he is a genius and a Hatake…"

Jiraiya's voice fades away as unconsciousness slowly creeps up on me. I welcome the relief it brings from the burning pain inside of me and I don't fight it as darkness overwhelms my senses. The pain slips away as the world turns completely black and I let the comforting silence of unconsciousness steal me from the waking world.


	3. Chapter Two

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes. Besides it's Naruto; it doesn't exactly take place in the same universe as our lives do, so who says medicine has to work the same, right? ./shrugs/.  
_

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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I've always hated hospitals. They only bring death and grief. And they smell funny. I haven't even opened my eyes yet but I know I'm in a hospital just by the smell.

I open my eyes but it doesn't matter, I still only see black. Am I blind? I can't be. How would that have happened?

"Daddy?" I whimper; my voice raw with little use. I'm afraid he's not here. I'm afraid he's left me all alone.

How long have I been asleep?

It's black, so dark, so alone. Is this how I'm going to have to live the rest of my life? How can I be a shinobi if I can't see?

"Kakashi," my father whispers, relief and happiness filling his voice, "How do you feel?

He takes my right hand in both of his. They're so big, they swallow my tiny hand. I can feel their strength. I can almost see my father's wide smile and caring eyes looking down at me. Almost.

"I can't see," I whisper, tears welling up in my sore and burning eyes, "What's wrong with me daddy? Why can't I see?"

"Don't worry son, I'm sure it won't last," the underlying panic in his voice betrays his words.

I hear someone open the door. This room must be small for the door to sound so close to me.

"Tsunade," my father states in a forced greeting.

He doesn't let my hand go. He doesn't stand up to bow to the Legendary Sannin. Does he think I'll die if he lets go of me? I don't know. But shouldn't he be respecting the Sannin? Standing up and bowing to her?

"He can't see," my father says, his voice shaking. I can hear the tears in his voice, his desperation to keep his emotions in check, "My son is blind, why?"

I hear her walk to the side of the bed. I can't see her reaction so I don't know how serious this is. I don't know how much I should panic, or if I should panic at all.

"Kakashi," Tsunade's caring voice acknowledges me, "I know you can't see what I'm doing but you can't move until I tell you too. You have to stay still, can you do that?"

"Yes," I reply, my voice tight with nervousness.

A warm hand spreads my left eyelids apart, forcing them to stay open. Something clicks and I can feel heat on my eye.

"Can you see anything?" she asks.

"It's hot," I reply, trying hard not to flinch.

The heat goes away and her hand lets go of my left eyelids. They move to my right eyelids and force them to stay open. The same heat fills my right eye but this time it comes with a slight lightness of the drowning darkness around me.

"Any change?"

"It's hot," I repeat, then add, "And lighter. Grayish, not so black."

My father squeezes my hand, "Is that good?" he asks.

The heat leaves and so does the slight lightness, leaving me in the pitch black again.

"You don't have to stay still anymore, "Tsunade tells me as she removes her hand from my face, "As you know Sakumo," she directs at my father, "The chakra overflow has created many side-affects. This blindness is one that I didn't predict," she sighs, "I believe that blood has clotted in his eyes."

"Is it curable?" my father asks.

"The clots can be removed but," there's always a but, "there could be lingering problems because it's gone untreated for so long."

"What do you have to do?" I ask, releasing the breath I hadn't noticed I was holding.

"You'll be asleep so you don't have to worry about it Kakashi, just leave it to your father and I."

I sigh. I'm tired of being told not to worry about things. I'm tired of being told I'm too young to understand when I know I'm not. I also know that it's pointless for me to argue with adults, they never actually listen to me. Sometimes they pretend that they're listening to me but most times they just ignore me; often laughing at my opinions. It's annoying and tiresome. Don't they realize that my ideas matter to? I didn't become a Chunin just to sit back and watch them do everything.

They've been talking, Tsunade and my father, but I haven't really been listening. They're saying something about putting a needle in my eyes. Something about drawing the blood out. I don't really understand. Wouldn't putting a needle in my eyes make them worse?

My chest starts burning. I don't think that's normal. I hear the frantic beeping of machines around me. I don't think that's normal either.

Faintly I hear people rushing into my room. It's hard to hear them above the ringing in my ears. Someone tells my father he has to leave. I can hear him protesting. His hands let go of mine and I panic. Don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone in the dark!

"Daddy," I whimper, "daddy…"

"Don't talk Kakashi," Tsunade's panicked voice reaches my ears.

"My chest hurts," I mutter.

"Don't talk," she repeats, angrier this time.

My lungs feel weird, heavy. Every breath is a struggle. My head feels light.

I can't breathe!

Why won't my lungs work? Why can't I breathe?

Someone tips my head back, opens my mouth, forces something down my throat. It hurts, rips my throat apart. It's too big. Whatever it is it won't fit in my throat. Something else, something smaller, slides down my throat through the other thing. It goes down further and I gag, trying to force it out. That person keeps pushing it down, tearing my throat apart.

I can breathe. My lungs work now. My chest still burns but I can breathe again.

Something pokes into my hand and my body goes number. My mind starts to go fuzzy. It's hard to concentrate. Then the welcoming presence of unconsciousness creeps up on me. I let it take me in its comforting arms.

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This is not comfortable.

How long have I been here now? Is my father still here or has he given up on me? I can't feel his presence; I can't feel anyone's presence.

I open my eyes; staring at the white ceiling above me. I can see again.

I won't have to quit being a shinobi.

Is that wrong? Is it wrong that the only reason I'm glad I can see is because I won't have to disappoint father. Or have I disappointed father already? I don't know.

I lay here; not moving and not caring. I don't have to look around to know that no one is here. There's a breathing mask over my mouth and nose and I don't bother to remove it even though I know I can now breathe on my own.

I feel so much older than before. How long have I been here?

The darkness begins to lift as light slowly washes in from the window. It must be the sun rising; it must be morning.

I remove the breathing mask, letting it fall off the side of the bed; letting it hang from the machine it's attached too. Slowly I push myself up, my hair falls down my back, just below my shoulders.

It was definitely not this long before.

I push the sheets back and unhook the monitoring wires connected to my naked chest. There's a scar. I huge scar that runs down the middle of my chest. Did I have surgery? I only remember my chest burning and not being able to breathe, nothing else.

The monitoring machines beep wildly now that they have nothing left to monitor. I slide my legs over the side of the bed. It's so close to the wall. This room is suffocatingly small.

My legs are numb and weak from, what I assume to be, little use. It's going to be hard to walk. I brace myself against the wall and push myself up. I stand for a few minutes, steadying my wobbling as much as I can. Breathe, just breathe and focus. One foot in front of the other. It's simple. I've done this for years.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, I make my way to the door on the other side of the room. I have to lean on the wall for support. I can't believe that I'm too weak to even balance on my own anymore, too weak to even walk. How pathetic do I look?

I struggle to balance on the tips of my toes as I reach for the doorknob, twist it, and push the door open. I step into the silent hallway. What part of the hospital is this? Every time I've gone to the hospital it's always been busy. Never silent like this. It's eerie. It's not right.

Slowly I make my way down the hall, bare feet echoing loudly in the emptiness. I lean on the wall, relying on it to support my weight for I can't do it by myself anymore. I pass door after door and every door I pass I look into. I'm barely tall enough to reach the edge of the window but I manage. I wish I was too short to see through the window. Every window holds the same image. Silent people lying in silent rooms. Alone. Machines beeping in the same rhythm from room to room. Identical breathing masks keeping these silent people alive. Every single person is alone.

I have to get out of here.

My chest burns, just like it did before. What is wrong with me? Am I suffering from some incurable disease? Am I not really the healthy, perfect son my dad believes I am? I just want to find someone who is awake. Someone who can answer my questions.

I don't want to be alone anymore. It's so lonely down here. There's no sound except for the beating of my own heart and my footsteps on the floor.

I want daddy. Where's daddy? Why did he leave me all alone? Does he hate me?

I hear footsteps and I stop walking, leaning on the wall. I won't be alone anymore, someone's here, someone who isn't silent. I realize that my breathing is ragged and uneven. Why? I've only been walking. I shouldn't be this tired.

I watch as the only woman of the Legendary Sannins turns the corner and stops, frozen in shock.

"My chest hurts," I whisper, my voice harsh and raspy.

It hurts to talk.

My legs give out and I desperately try to claw on the smooth wall to keep myself up. I can't find a grip. Even if I could I doubt I'd have the strength left to hold myself up.

In a split second Tsunade's beside me and scoops me up in her strong arms before I even hit the floor.

"You shouldn't be up," she scolds me, but I can still hear the kindness, the relief in her voice.

"Daddy," I mutter, leaning my head against her chest, "I want to see daddy."

She stays silent and I lift my head up to look quizzically at her but she's avoiding my gaze. Did I do something wrong? Did I do something to make her angry?

I sigh, leaning my head back against her chest. Adults are so confusing to figure out.

"Thanks for fixing my eyes," I whisper, not bothering to look up and see her reaction.

She still doesn't respond.

After a few more minutes of silent walking, broken only by the sound of Tsunade's feet hitting the floor, we take a sharp turn and she pushes the door open. I look up at her as she places me back in the bed and hooks up the monitoring machines again. She pulls the sheets back up to my chest but she leaves my left arm uncovered.

"Why is it so silent here?" I ask. She still doesn't meet my eyes. She still doesn't respond, "Tsunade?"

She ignores me and turns around, pulling something out of a shelf on the wall.

"Kakashi," Tsunade whispers, her voice seems to be breaking, like she's on the verge of tears. But why?

"Kakashi," she repeats, "You're going to have to have a shot and take pills every morning and every night for a very, very long time. It will make your chest feel better."

Shots? Pills? Twice a day? Why? What happened? What's really wrong with me? Why won't anyone just tell me what's wrong?

"Why? Why am I so sick? What's wrong with me?" I mutter, my voice breaking into sobs, "Why?"

Tsunade turns around to face me, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears, "It's about time that someone tells you the truth," she whispers, "But first your medication."

I nod and watch as she disinfects the vein in the crook of my left elbow. I grind my teeth together as the needle breaks skin. I can feel the liquid flowing into my veins and mixing with the blood. She takes the needle out and turns around, putting it in the garbage. I push myself up into a sitting position as Tsunade rummages through the shelves on the wall.

She turns around and places a small cup of pills in my hand, "Just wait here, I'll go get you a glass of water."

I nod, unable to trust my own voice. I watch as she leaves the room. I look down and stare at the cup of pills in my hand. I tip the cup over, letting the pills pour into my other hand. I put the cup down, balancing it on the soft bed. I just sit here, numbly picking up pill after pill and carefully placing it back in the cup, making sure not to tip the cup over.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-one different pills. Some white, some pale blue, some black, and others are gray. Some big, some small, some oval, and some round.

One shot and twenty-one pills. Every morning, every night, every day, for a very long time.

Twenty-one.

I pick the cup up and stare at it, looking at it from every angle I can. I have a sudden urge to throw the cup across the room. To watch it break on the wall and the pills fall on the floor. To watch the glass shatter in front of my eyes, just like my dream of being shinobi, just like my ability to make my father proud.

Tsunade comes back, glass of water in hand. Someone walks in behind her. Someone I know I should recognize but I just can't for some reason. Tsunade stops by the side of my bed and hands me the glass. I take it. He stops at the end of my bed, hands shoved in his pockets and a sad smile on his lips.

"How you holding up kiddo?" he asks.

His voice clicks in my head. Jiraiya.

I make no reply. I can't even bring myself to look at him anymore, this friend of my father. The father I've disappointed. I drop my gaze to the two cups in my hands. I sigh, bringing the cup of pills to my mouth and tipping it back. I pour them all into my mouth at once and quickly follow up with the glass of water. In one gulp all twenty-one pills are swallowed.

And so it begins.


	4. Chapter Three

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **K_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I just stare at her. I'm aware that staring isn't polite but I can't help it.

"A heart transplant?" I repeat, dumbfounded and confused.

Tsunade just nods, a sad smile on her lips. I never knew you could have heart transplants. I never knew it was possible.

"Why?" I ask, the panic rising inside me, "Why did I? Why did I need it?"

"You managed something remarkable, something that has never occurred before. Unfortunately your body simply couldn't handle it," Tsunade tells me, her voice soft and quiet.

She goes silent. Seemingly reluctant to say anything further. But why? I want to know. Don't I deserve to know? I want to ask her to tell me but I can't. It's impolite to ask for information from a Sannin who wishes not to speak.

"Tsunade," Jiraiya says, "He must be told."

She sighs and leans back in the chair she's sitting in.

"Do you know of the eight Celestial Gates(1)?" she asks me and I nod in response.

"Well," she continues, "you managed to open the first Celestial Gate, the Initial Gate. However, your body was unable to withstand the huge amount of chakra that was released when the Initial Gate was forced open."

"But why? Why did I?"

"We don't know Kakashi. We don't know why the gate was opened," she answers with a shake of her head, "We just don't have the answer."

"But…so…it was the gate that damaged my heart?" I ask, still trying to make sense of everything.

"Yes," she replies with sadness in her voice, "It also damaged your lungs and your eyes, both of which we managed to repair with little difficulty. Your lungs, however, will forever be a little more sensitive than the average person's."

"But…if this new heart is healthy then why do I need so much medication?"

This doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. This heart is fine. So why am I still so sick?

"Your heart is not yours Kakashi. Your body doesn't recognize it as a heart but as a foreign material that is dangerous to your health when in fact, it is what is keeping you alive. Because of this your body will attack and destroy the heart. The medication prevents this from happening. It creates a barrier around the heart and tells your body's immune system that the heart is not dangerous and that is doesn't need to be destroyed," she explains to me.

"And if I don't take the medication?" I ask.

"Then you will die," she replies in such a quiet whisper that I have to strain to hear her.

"Twenty-one pills and one shot. Every morning. Every night," I mutter, dropping my gaze to stare at my listless hands resting on my lap.

"Most likely it will not be that much medication for too long," Tsunade informs me as she leans forward and takes my left hand in her own, "Technology is improving everyday, along with medication. It is likely that, as the years go by, your medication will decrease."

I nod, tears escaping from my closed eyes.

"Will I have to quit…" I choke out, "quit being a shinobi?"

"That, Kakashi, I cannot tell you. Medically there really is no reason why you can't be a shinobi. But when you return to training you may find your body weaker than before. Also, your stamina will never be what it once was, or could've been."

I nod; my eyes still squeezed shut as the tears fall silently down my face. The room goes silent but I can feel the tension between the two Sannin but I don't know why. I'm sure that if I looked up I would see silent stares between the two of them.

"Tsunade," Jiraiya whispers. I can hear the anger in his voice, "If you don't tell him than I will."

I open my eyes and snap my head up and turn it to look from Tsunade, sitting beside me holding my hand, to Jiraiya, leaning against the wall at the foot of my bed.

"Tell me what?" I ask after the silence becomes too much for me to bear. The waiting too painful.

Tsunade sighs and I turn my head to face her. I can see the grief in her eyes. What's wrong now? This can't get any worse. Can it?

"Kakashi," she begins, her voice shaking with the same grief that's in her eyes, "This heart won't last forever. After five to seven years your body will reject the heart no matter what medication you take. Your body **will** destroy this heart."

I blink. I'm going to die in five years? This is it? Because I can't control my own chakra I've killed myself?

"So that's it?" I whisper, "There's nothing that can be done?"

"When the time comes you can have another heart transplant. As long as the rest of your body is healthy then another transplant can be done. As many as is needed."

"I want daddy," I whimper, "Where's daddy?"

"Your dad's on a mission right now," Jiraiya says and I turn my head to look at him.

"Daddy left me alone?"

He does hate me. He does blame me for mother's death. How he acted before was just an act, nothing more. He just pretended to care because other people were around.

"Kiddo, you've been sleeping for a little over seven months. Your dad couldn't stop working, not at this time. He didn't want to leave but Konoha needed him. There was nothing that could be done about it."

"Jiraiya!" Tsunade angrily exclaims, "You didn't need to tell him that!"

"He deserves to know!" Jiraiya yells back.

Why do adults always argue around me? Is there something I do that makes people angry?

"I told you we had to wait before we told him that! I told you he could only handle so much information at once!"

"What are you afraid of? Shock? He's not like normal kids! He's smarter than you care to acknowledge! He should know the truth! After all, it's his body! His life!"

Both their voices rise in anger with every word they say. My head hurts with the yelling.

"Jira…"

"Stop it!" I scream, "Just stop arguing!"

They both turn to stare at me. I can't believe I just yelled at them. I just yelled at two of the Legendary Sannins. Where is my respect? Where are my manors?

"Why does everyone always argue?" I mutter

"Kakashi…"

"Leave me alone," I interrupt her, "Just leave me alone."

She looks taken back. I didn't mean for my voice to sound so angry. I really didn't. I'm just tired of everyone always arguing about me. But it's too late now to change what I said. Even if I do regret it.

What am I going to do? How am I going to be a shinobi if I have no stamina? How am I going to make father proud if I can't be a shinobi?

"Ka…"

"Leave me alone!"

I feel warm. It starts burns. Just like before. Is it happening again? But why? Why can't I control it?

I let go of Tsunade's hand. I hug my knees to my chest. Bury my head in my knees. Squeeze my eyes shut. It gets worse. Spreads through every muscle. Every nerve. Oh God, why won't it just stop? Why?

A needle stabs into my left shoulder. Rips through burning muscle. I squeeze my eyes tighter, desperately trying to block out the pain. It won't go away.

A liquid flows into my blood. I can feel it running through my body.

The fire inside me starts to fade. Starts to calm down.

And then nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. This isn't like before. There's no welcoming unconsciousness to take me from this reality. No sleep to pass the time. Just nothing.

And waiting.

I can't hear anything. I can't see anything. No feeling, no sensation. Nothing but the surrounding black and a feeling of cold.

So very, very cold.

It's a drastic change from the previous fire that raged inside me. I think I might prefer this freezing cold, this solitude. To be alone like this is painful but at least I know that I won't hurt anyone else if I'm not close to them.

Maybe all along I was mean to live like this. Meant to be alone. I drove mother away to her death. I made father stop loving me. I make mistakes on purpose to push everyone away. I make people hate me. All to not cause them pain.

To be alone.

Is this death?

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Kakashi?" I hear a voice break through my silent tomb.

How long have I been here? How long have I been in this black void? The silence had become deafening, the solitude welcoming. I've gotten used to being alone, forgotten, hated. Has it been days? Months? I don't know. Time has no meaning here. I lost track of it. Lost in my own thoughts. But now someone has broken through the walls that trapped me in here. Someone has reached through the barriers.

"Kakashi?"

The voice grates on my ears. Hurts to listen too. I wonder who it is. I can't place the voice. It's been too long since I last heard noise.

"Son?"

Father? Is father here? Has he come back to me? Does he really still love me?

But it was all an act before. Last time he was here he was pretending to love me because other people were around. Is this all an act too?

What am I talking about? Of course it's an act. It's always been an act. Not only have I killed mother but I'm sick now too. I can't be a strong shinobi anymore. I'm no longer father's perfect, healthy, miracle son. I'm just a sick, weak, needy child. I've disappointed daddy. Of course he hates me. I don't even have to ask. I know.

He hates me.

"Kakashi, please, open your eyes," my father pleads.

He sounds so afraid, so scared, so weak. I can't stand to hear him like this. But I can't open my eyes to face him. I deserve to be alone like this. I deserve this darkness, this hate from others.

"Kaka…" my father's voice breaks and I can hear the sobs choking his breath.

"I'm sorry Sakumo," I hear a voice whisper.

The sound seems so far away. So distant and fuzzy.

"Please," my father pleads to the other person, "Please Tsunade. You can't do this. You can't take him away from me."

"I'm sorry Sakumo," she repeats, "He's only awaken twice in eleven months. His brain hasn't shown any signs of life in over three months."

"But…"

"He's brain dead," Tsunade's harsh voice interrupts my father's pleading sobs, "I'm sorry but it's the truth. There's no use holding on to fool's hope."

Brain dead? How can I be brain dead if I'm thinking like I am? I am thinking, right? I have to show them I'm alive! I have to open my eyes! I have to talk!

But I can't! I can't move my body. I can't do anything but sit here and wait.

Alone.

Why?

"Tsunade…"

"Sakumo," a rough voice interrupts my father's, "This is the best decision for Kakashi. You know that. You're releasing your son from this torture. Let him be free, let him go to heaven. Let him be with his mother. He deserves it."

Mother? If I die I can see mommy again? I miss mother. Miss her so much. But I don't want to leave daddy. Would he be able to live on if I'm gone? He sounds so sad, so depressed, so alone. I can't leave him alone. I deserve loneliness. I deserve solitude. He's done nothing to deserve such pain. I need to stay for him. I can't die. I can't leave him alone.

"I did this," my father chokes out, "I killed him Jiraiya. I pushed him too hard. Trained him too much."

"No one could've predicted this would happen," Jiraiya's harsh voice softens just a little, "No one could've known his chakra would do this too his body."

"I should've seen it. I was the one training him. I should've noticed his chakra was getting too strong for him to control. I should've predicted this," my father's grief filled voice reaches my ears.

I can't do this. I can't lay here and listen to his grief. I wish I could block out sound. Shut off my ears. I wish I was back in that silent, black tomb. When I'm alone I don't hurt anyone and I don't have to listen to their pain.

"Sakumo," Tsunade's caring, yet strict, voice whispers, "Are you ready?"

"I can't be ready," my father mutters, "How can someone be ready to watch their son's death?"

I hear her sigh, "He won't wake up Sakumo. And even if he did he would be a vegetable. Is that the life you want your son to live? To be stuck in a body he can't control with a mind that doesn't work? Let him be free of this torture."

A vegetable? What does that mean? Am I paralyzed like Senji? Am I going to be stuck like this forever? Is that why they're going to kill me? I don't understand. I don't understand anything. If I'm like Senji then why are they going to kill me if they haven't killed Senji? Or have they? It doesn't make sense.

"Do it. Pull the plug," my father's cracking voice whispers.

And then silence. Broken only by the breathing of the three people in the room with me. Is this it? Will it be painful? What's on the other side?

The beeping of the machines slows down around me. Each machine being turned off one by one. Something slides out of my throat.

I can't breathe!

Panic sets in as I desperately try to get my lungs to work. But they won't. Why? Why is my body so weak? Why can't I have a healthy body? I can hear my daddy's heart-wrenching sobs. They're barely audible. I can barely hear them. The ringing in my ears blocks out most sounds and the lack of oxygen makes it hard to understand what I do manage to hear. But I hear my daddy's crying. I understand that his crying is bad. I have to make him stop crying.

I can't leave daddy alone!

My body feels warm like before. But the burning isn't so strong this time. It's not so painful. It's almost comfortable. Almost relaxing.

I gasp, welcoming the fresh air into my sore lungs. Feeling returns to my body as I take one deep breath after another.

I force my eyes open. The bright light burns them. My God does it hurt. But I have to tell them I'm alive. I have to show them I'm okay. I have to tell daddy that I'll never leave him alone.

The white ceiling. It's always the white ceiling that I see when I open my eyes.

I hate it.

I turn my head to the left to stare at four pairs of shocked eyes. Four? I thought there were only three people here. At least, only three people had talked. My father, Jiraiya, and Tsunade had talked. Who is this other person? I don't recognize him. He has blond hair. He stands like he's someone important. Like he's a _somebody_. But who?

"I'm sorry daddy," I force out, my voice hoarse and my throat raw, "I'm sorry for being so sick. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"My God," Tsunade's shocked voice whispers, "His chakra. Arashi(2), this is what I was talking about. This chakra. His own chakra saved him. I can't believe it. He was brain dead! This doesn't make sense. This defies everything I've ever learnt."

"It was stronger before," Jiraiya directs at the other man. This Arashi guy, "A lot stronger before."

"Daddy?" I whimper, "Please daddy. I'm so sorry. Please. It was so dark. So lonely daddy. I was so scared."

"You said," my father angrily mutters, "You said there was no chance."

He stands up and turns around. I can feel the anger radiating from him.

"You almost killed him! KILLED HIM!"

I stare in shock. This isn't the father I know. This man in front of me, this angry man, isn't the daddy I remember.

"Daddy?"

My vision blurs as tears well up in my eyes. I don't even try to stop them. I don't care. I just want daddy to hug me. To love me. I don't care if it's fake love. I don't care if it's all an act. A lie. I just don't want to be alone anymore.

"How could you?" my dad's angry voice screams at Tsunade, "HOW?"

"SAKUMO!" Jiraiya's angry voice cuts through the air, "Calm down!"

I curl up into a ball. Lying on my left side. I squeeze my eyes shut. I just want to block out the yelling. The screaming. The anger. I want it gone. Everyone always argues when I'm around. I always make people so angry. Why? I don't mean to.

"I didn't know…" Tsunade's shaking voice adds to the noise, she sounds afraid. No, terrified, "I didn't know…" she repeats, "The tests showed he was brain dead…this shouldn't have happened."

"HE ALMOST DIED!" my father continues screaming.

Why won't he shut-up? Why won't they all just shut-up?

"SILENCE!" an unrecognizable voice bellows. It must've been the other one. The one with the blond hair.

It works. The room goes silent. I open up my right eye just a fraction. Daddy and Jiraiya stand with their backs to me, Tsunade and that new guy, Arashi, stand facing me. But they're not looking at me. Jiraiya's holding my dad's arm. I think he's trying to restrain daddy.

"Sakumo," Arashi whispers, "go be with your son. He needs you."

Jiraiya lets go of father's arm and he turns around to look at me. I must look pathetic curled up like I am.

"Daddy?" I whimper, sobs choking my breath, "Do you hate me daddy?"

The anger in his eyes fades away to grief. He shakes his head. He walks over to me. I open my other eye and watch him.

"Kakashi," he whispers, sitting down on the edge of my bed, "Kakashi…"

I push myself up into a sitting position, "Daddy?" I question, "Why are you so sad?"

Tears fall down his face, mirroring the same tears that fall down my face.

"Why are you crying?" I ask.

"I'm happy son," he replies with a smile, "I'm happy you're okay. I'm happy I have such a strong child for a son."

Did he just call me strong? Is he proud of me? But why? Why would he be proud of me?

"Daddy…" I whimper, holding my arms out for a hug.

I don't care if I look needy. I don't care if I look pathetic. I just don't care anymore. I want daddy. I want love.

And he hugs me. His strong arms swallow up my tiny body. It's been so long since he's hugged me. Since he's loved me. I feel save again. I feel happy.

I feel loved again.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**(1) Celestial Gates:** Also known as "The Eight Gates", "The Eight Inner Gates", or "The Eight Chakra Gates"

The basis for the idea of the chakra gates comes from the body's limits on the functions within it. This makes the body much weaker, but it keeps the body from expiring too soon. By opening these gates, the user can surpass their own physical limits at the cost of extreme damage to their own bodies.

- From **_wikipedia_**

**Author's Note: **I decided to use "The Celestial Gates" as the name because it just sounds way cooler than any of the other names. You can wikipedia the Eight Gates under "Taijutsu in Naruto" and you can get the names of all the Eight Gates and what they do.

**(2) Arashi: "**There seems to be some controversy over the 4th Hokage's true name. The two leading contenders are Arashi Kazama and Arashi Uzumaki. Apparently, both of these names were seen to be written, Arashi Kazama on the summoning contract that Naruto signs to call forth Gamabunta, and Arashi Uzumaki in the Japanese episode were Jiraiya was talking to Naruto about what happened with the Kyuubi. Additionally, I'm told that Masashi Kishimoto, the creator of Naruto, said in an interview that the 4th Hokage's name is Arashi Kazama, though this is highly disputed and shouldn't be taken as fact. And finally, I'm also told that the writing on those contracts is simply gibberish, written to look like extremely poor handwriting so nobody would be able to read it.

However, his real name has yet to be officially mentioned in either the Anime or the Manga."

- From **_absoluteanime_**

**Author's Note: **Because both suspected names have "Arashi" as the first name I decided to use that as Yondaime's first name. This is in no way proven as fact but is only speculation. Please don't quote me as saying that "Arashi" is the real name of Yondaime because I, along with everyone else, doesn't know that for sure. Also, if I use Yondaime's last name at all throughout this story I will be using "Kazama" because personally I will not believe that Yondaime is related to Naruto until it is actually proven as fact.


	5. Chapter Four

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that at the end of this chapter there are hints of child abuse. If you don't like to read about that then I suggest that you should stop reading this story from here on in. Most chapters from now on will probably contain child abuse. That's why the rating has gone up. You HAVE BEEN WARNED! Also, I'm unsure if the rating **T** is high enough…if you think it should be moved to a higher rating then I will gladly do so._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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"So," Sarutobi begins, "This is quite the meeting. Two Legendary Sannins, the White Fang of Konoha, Konoha's Yellow Flash, and the Sandaime. I haven't been in a meeting with so many legendary people for quite sometime. And for the meeting to be about one seven year old child is quite unique."

"I can see why the Elders want you out of the Hokage office," Tsunade mutters, "This is not something to take light of."

"That child's chakra is unstable. If he doesn't learn how to control it quickly he will kill himself," Jiraiya-sensei states.

"Or worse yet, kill someone else," I add, "He's already demonstrated the ability to burn others who are simply touching him when his chakra is unstable. Who knows what else he is capable of?"

"He's also demonstrated amazing healing abilities," Tsunade whispers, "Healing abilities that defy logic. He's too dangerous to be kept alive. But if he is left alive it should simply be for me to study. I could learn a lot from him."

"You are **not** using my son for medical experiments," Sakumo angrily states.

"But Tsunade is correct. His chakra is far too unstable for him to be left alive. He is a danger to everyone around him," Jiraiya-sensei regrettable says, "It's unfortunate but he should be either killed or removed from the village. He can't stay here."

"I will **not** let you kill my son!" Sakumo yells, letting his anger get control of him.

"Sakumo, calm down," Sarutobi's voice cuts through the air. His tone leaves no room for arguing, "You're not going to like what I'm going to say. But I have to agree with Jiraiya."

"But…"

"I will not order your son's death," the Sandaime interrupts Sakumo's attempt to argue, "But he cannot stay in the village when he is this unstable. Also, I'm going to have to forbid any further training. His chakra is too much for him to handle. Any more training will just kill him."

"You can't do that!" Sakumo argues, "He will be devastated if you don't let him become a shinobi."

"He will be devastated or you will be devastated?" Tsunade mutters angrily.

The room goes silent. I can feel the tension in the air.

"Are you accusing me of putting my own desires above the health and safety of my son?" Sakumo's cold voice cuts through the deafening silence.

"Yes. For God's sake, "Tsunade exclaims, "he was five years old when **you** entered him in the academy."

"He asked for it, he wanted it, he was capable of it," Sakumo retorts, "It was his decision."

"He was five. He was blindly trusting **you**," she answers, the anger growing in her voice, "He was far too young. He's still far too young."

"Tsunade," Jiraiya-sensei breaks the bickering, "stop this foolishness."

"Jiraiya-sensei is correct," I cut in, "Kakashi cannot stay in the village as he is. But he doesn't have to be removed from Konoha and he doesn't have to quit being a shinobi, if he still desires to be one."

The three of them turn to look at me quizzically and I smile at them.

"And what is it that you propose? What is your solution?" Sarutobi finally asks after the silence has stretched on for a few minutes.

"I will seal his chakra," I answer, "and I will become his sensei. That way I can watch over him and release the seal, little by little, as he grows stronger and more able to control his chakra. This will also allow Sakumo to take on more missions for Konoha, missions that he is needed for."

"Is that wise?" Tsunade asks, "To perform a seal on him when he's so young?"

"There really is no other choice," I reply, "Unless you wish to condemn Kakashi to a life of solitude."

"If his training and chakra release is monitored than he could surpass us all in time," Jiraiya-sensei mutters, more to himself than to anyone else, "But can he handle that?"

I turn to look at my former sensei, "What do you mean?" I ask.

"His already shown signs of depression. Even before this whole 'Initial Gate opening' fiasco. I fear that in the future he won't be able to handle the pressure that comes with being so naturally amazing. Plus, his heart concerns me."

"His heart will be fine as long as he takes the medication," Tsunade states, "Just don't put him on any long-term missions around the five to seven year mark when he will begin needing a transplant. And even then, his heart will start aching three to four months before he will actually need a transplant. That gives him plenty of time to get back from any long-term mission he might be on."

"That might be true," the other Sannin whispers, "But the depression signs still worry me."

"He's seven," I say, "And he was six at the time. He knew something was wrong with his mother but no one would tell him. His father was almost always away on missions. It was probably more loneliness than anything else."

"Besides," Sarutobi adds, "It's the middle of a war, even the youngest of children in this village know that. Who **hasn't** shown signs of depression?"

"But his lack of stamina will make it hard for him," Jiraiya-sensei continues.

"Other shinobi's have had worse shortcomings than a lack of stamina," I argue.

"But still…"

"Jiraiya-sensei," I quizzically state, "Is this really about Kakashi's health or do you just want to spare him from the life of a shinobi? Because if you just want to spare him a shinobi's life than I should inform you, yet again, that **that** is not your job."

"It's my decision to make," Sakumo adds, "And I made my decision two years ago when I let him enter the academy."

"Did you make the right decision?" Jiraiya-sensei retorts in anger.

"Until you have your own children," Sakumo replies, his own anger growing with every word, "Don't tell me how to raise mine."

"Enough," I state, my voice slightly louder than normal, "If no one objects than I shall seal Kakashi's chakra and begin training him as soon as he is healthy enough."

"Is there no objections?" Sarutobi asks. Everyone shakes their heads, "Very well."

I sigh in relief. I really didn't want Kakashi to be condemned to a life of solitude, or death.

"Kazama Arashi," Sarutobi directs at me, "I now, under the power of the Hokage title, name you the Jounin-sensei of Hatake Kakashi, son of Hatake Sakumo and Hatake Narita."

I nod; then turn my attention to Sakumo, "Don't worry," I say with a smile, "I will take good care of him and I won't let him come to harm."

"If anything happens to him when he's under your care," Sakumo mutters, "I will kill you with my bare hands."

Then he leaves. Just like that he made those familiar seals and was gone. Jiraiya sighs and walks out the door while Tsunade makes the same seals that Sakumo did and disappears in the same way.

"Is there something wrong Arashi?" Sarutobi asks me.

I sigh, "He's changed," I whisper turning to look at the Hokage.

"Sakumo?" he questions and I nod.

"Ever since his wife died he's changed so much. This whole incident with Kakashi has only changed him more. I fear for his health and his mental stability."

"You're not alone in your fears Arashi," Sarutobi comforts me.

I watch as the Sandaime walks over to the window and leans against the sill, his back to me.

"I fear for Kakashi's safety under his care," I continue.

"You made the right decision," Sarutobi whispers, "I hadn't even thought of that."

Silence fills the room but I don't leave. For some reason I feel like I need to stay here, but I don't know why.

"You'll make a great Hokage one day."

"There's no need to jump to such conclusions," I say with a nervous laugh, "You still have a few more years left in you."

"Sakumo isn't going to last much longer," Sarutobi mutters, I can hear his voice beginning to break, "Everyone's noticed. Everyone's asked me to save him. But what can I do?"

"His pain is his own. He's old enough to take care of himself and he's smart enough to know when to get help. He won't leave his son alone; he cares too much for Kakashi to do that."

"Grief makes people do stupid things," he mutters.

I walk over to the Hokage and lean on the window sill beside him. My left arm touching his right arm as we both look over Konoha's bustling inner city.

"This is a time of war Sarutobi," I whisper, "Not everyone is going to be able to be saved."

"He's a year younger than my son."

Now I know why this has affected him so much. Why he cares so damn much.

"Every time I look at Kakashi I see my son. I couldn't imagine putting Asuma through what Kakashi has gone through. I can't even begin to imagine what Sakumo is feeling."

"Kakashi is not your son. Kakashi is no one's son but Sakumo's. That kid is a genius among geniuses. He can't be compared to anyone for no one has ever been in his league before. Don't worry about what can't be changed."

We fall into silence and the time ticks by, uncaring about the path of the world.

"Don't worry," I say with a small smile, "As long as Kakashi is under my care I will not let any harm come to him."

I stand up fully and quickly perform the same seals that Sakumo and Tsunade had performed earlier. My vision spins away into a black void before quickly reappearing. Only this time I'm standing in a small hospital room.

"Sakumo, Tsunade," I greet with a nod, "How you doing Kakashi?" I ask the child sitting cross-legged on the bed.

He looks up, "Father said you're my new sensei," he states and I nod.

"Do you really have to seal my chakra?" he asks.

"Not all of it," I reply with a smile, "And not forever. As you get stronger I'll release the seal a little bit at a time."

"He's stable enough for you to perform the seal. It's just a matter of when you want to do it," Tsunade informs me.

"Whenever Sakumo and Kakashi feel is the best time then I'll do it," I reply.

"Can you do it right now?" Kakashi asks.

I look at him quizzical, "If that is what you want then yes, I can. But are you sure?"

"I don't want to hurt myself again. I don't want to have to worry anymore," the kid whispers, "I just want to be normal again."

"If it's alright with your fa…"

"Yes," Sakumo interrupts, "It's fine with me. The sooner, the better."

I nod, "Tsunade, is there a room I can use?" I ask her.

She nods, "Follow me."

"Come on Kakashi," I say with a smile.

He slides off the bed and grabs hold of his father's hand. I turn around and follow Tsunade. I can hear them following behind me.

Is this really the right decision?

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This room is dark. Arashi-sensei wouldn't let father come in with me. He said we needed to be alone. He said he needs to concentrate. He said I couldn't talk. He made me take my shirt off and now I'm really cold. I wish I could put my shirt back on but I can't.

He cut himself with a kunai. He's writing characters on the floor in his own blood. They're in some sort of pattern. I can't really read them. I was never good at reading or writing at the academy. He told me to kneel down in the middle of the floor, and that's what I'm doing.

He wrote in a circle around me. Then he wrote lines coming out of the circle. Lines that criss-cross and weave in and out of each other. It looks confusing. I don't understand how he can remember to do this.

"Kakashi," he whispers, walking up beside me, "You have to stay really still now. I'm going to have to write on you."

"With your blood?" I ask, my voice shaking.

I don't like that. I don't want someone else's blood on me. That's just weird.

"I know it seems kind of creepy but it has to be done."

I gulp and close my eyes, "Okay," I whisper.

His warm fingers press lightly on my skin. I shudder. I can feel his blood sinking into me. I want to run away. I want to be with daddy again. This is too creepy, too unnerving, too freaky. I didn't think it would be like this.

"Kakashi," Arashi-sensei whispers, "I'm going to start now. This is going to hurt so be prepared. Try to stay as still as you can. You're going to feel really cold, that's normal, okay?"

I nod and squeeze my eyes shut even more. I hear the air moving behind me as sensei's hands move in a sequence of seals. I can feel his chakra getting stronger and more intense. The air feels heavy. It's hard to breathe.

His hands slam into my back, just below my right shoulder blade. Then nothing. It doesn't hurt. I just feel calm, relaxed.

It burns. The burning turns into a raging fire. I think I hear myself screaming but I'm not too sure. His hands push harder. Grinding into my muscles. His chakra gets stronger. I can feel it growing.

And then cold. Freezing cold. It starts in my fingertips and my toes. It spreads slowly. Overtaking the fire within me. It hurts more than the heat. Hurts so much more.

And then the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness wraps around me.

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I collapse to my knees as Kakashi slumps forward. I grab him by the shoulder and stop him from hitting the floor.

He unconsciously fought back.

I almost couldn't seal the chakra; I almost had to give up. This kid is strong, amazingly strong. Stronger than I every thought he could be. Perhaps he should've been sent away from the village; perhaps he really is too dangerous.

Perhaps you were right Jiraiya-sensei.

My lungs burn as I desperately gasp for air that I feel like I can't get. I know I'm breathing I just don't feel like I am.

My eyes widen in shock. I could've died right here, this kid could've killed me.

"Arashi?" Tsunade whispers beside me.

When did she get here?

"Kakashi?" I faintly hear Sakumo's panicked voice.

"He'll be fine," I mutter. But will I be?

"What the hell happened here?" Tsunade exclaims, "What happened?"

"He fought back," I mutter, "His chakra fought back. He didn't mean to but he did."

The room falls silent.

"He almost killed me," I whisper.

"What do you mean?" Sakumo asks, confusion colouring his voice, "How could my son almost kill you?"

"I had to open up the Celestial Gates," I answer, still gasping for breath, "I didn't even notice I had opened them until after."

"How…how many?" Tsunade stammers. I can hear the shock in her voice, "How many did you have to open?"

"Five," I reply, "Up to the Limit Gate."

And then the blackness of unconsciousness takes me in its grasp.

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I open my eyes only to be greeted with the sight of a white ceiling.

Hospitals should paint their ceilings a more interesting colour. Like purple, or yellow, or blue. Something a little livelier.

"Who would've thought that Konoha's Yellow Flash would meet his match in a seven year old child?"

I push myself up into a sitting position and look at my former sensei. He's leaning against the wall at the foot of my bed, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other hand behind his back.

"So kind of you to come visit me Jiraiya-sensei," I reply with a smile.

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard," he criticizes me, his eyes turning serious, "Konoha can't afford to have you die trying to seal the chakra of a child."

"I didn't mean too," I reply, "But what is done is done. Kakashi is okay, right?" I ask, allowing a hint of concern to enter my voice.

Jiraiya-sensei smiles, "Always thinking about everyone else before yourself, eh? But yes, Kakashi is fine. Still unconscious but fine."

I sigh in relief, "I thought I might've hurt him, putting so much of my own chakra into him."

"Unfortunately I can't let you rest."

I raise an eyebrow in a silent question.

Jiraiya-sensei smiles as he pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning on and walks over to me. He places a folder on my lap that he had hidden behind his back.

"Sarutobi informed me to give you this. Sakumo, Shikaku, and Tsume have already gone on ahead. They're waiting for you to back them up."

I sigh, "I get no rest," I jokingly complain.

"So it would seem," Jiraiya-sensei replies.

I watch as he turns around and walks out of the room. He pauses at the door, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

"In case you're wondering, which I know you are, once Kakashi wakes up he'll be staying at his uncle's until you and Sakumo return. So don't go get yourself killed and leave that kid all alone," he whispers, not bothering to turn around.

I smile as he turns the corner and walks out of my sight. He reads me too well.

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That white ceiling again. I really hate that white ceiling.

"Glad to see your awake Kakashi," Tsunade says with a smile.

I turn my head to look at the Sannin. She's leaning against the doorframe.

"The sealing was successful, though you did give Arashi some difficulty," she continues, "You should no longer have any problems with your chakra control anymore."

I smile. Thank God that's over with now. Thank God I can be normal again.

"Can I see daddy?" I ask.

Tsunade's smile fades just a little bit, "Unfortunately you can't. Your father had to go on a mission with Arashi and Tsume. He shouldn't been gone for too long."

"Oh," I say, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice, "Do I have to stay here until he gets back?"

Tsunade smiles again, "Nope. You finally get to leave so you might want to get dressed into your clothes. I had them washed for your," she points to the dresser on the other side of my bed and I turn to look at my clothes.

"But if father's not here then where am I going?" I ask.

Who am I going to stay with? I can't possibly be staying by myself. I'm too young for that.

"You're uncle is coming to pick you up. He should be here any minute."

"Uncle Moro?" I ask, turning my head to face Tsunade again.

She smiles and nods, "Yup, Uncle Moro."

I gulp and force myself to smile. I hate staying with Uncle Moro.

"You should get changed," Tsunade says as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

I sigh, pushing the sheets down and sliding out of the bed. I'm glad to get out of here I just don't want to go **there**. I hate it there. Out of all the people I could stay with it has to be Uncle Moro.

I take off the hospital pants and shirt and change into my own clothes. They're still warm from the dryer. It feels nice.

"Kakashi?"

I blink as my uncle appears in front of me. I shudder at his smile and the sound of his voice.

"Are you ready?"

I nod, not trusting my voice to respond.

"Do you need to bring anything with you?"

I shake my head. There's nothing here of mine except my clothes.

He smiles his creepy smile at me and I sigh. I walk over and hold onto his right arm as his hands perform a series of seals. The hospital rooms spins into a void of black and his living room comes into focus. I let go of his arm as soon as I can.

It's been so long since I've last been here. I was hoping I would never have come back.

"You're hairs gotten longer," my uncle comments.

"Yah," I reply, "I need a hair cut."

"I like it longer."

I shudder. I know that tone. I know what he wants. But why? Why now? Couldn't he wait? I just want to relax.

He kneels down beside me and cups my chin in his right hand. He turns my head so that I'm staring at him. Staring into those cold, blue eyes. A shudder crawls up my spine and slowly spreads its way thought my body.

He kisses me.

I instinctively pull away even though I know I shouldn't. It will only make him angrier. It will only make it worse.

"Playing hard to get, eh?" he mutters; his voice cold and full of anger.

He lets go of my chin and grabs my left arm with his right hand. He squeezes it tight as he stands up. I try to pull away but it's no use. He's far too strong for me. He always has been. He always will be.

He smiles as he drags me over to the wall and pushes me up against it. My back digs into the hard wood. He kneels in front of me and pulls a kunai out from the holster on his thigh.

Slowly he places the kunai under the buttons of my shirt, the tip pointing downwards. He pops the buttons off one by one, starting from the top and making his way to the bottom. I feel his cold hands undue the button on my pants. I shudder and close my eyes.

I want daddy to come and protect me. To come save me.

He never has.


	6. Chapter Five

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity. :: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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I freeze, arm in mid throw.

"Kakashi," my Uncle says from behind me, I can smell the alcohol on him.

I watch the path of my kunai as I finish my throw and it flies through the air; dead center. I was enjoying the peace and quiet of being alone for the first time in over two months.

"Is father back?" I tentatively ask, trying not to get my hopes up.

"No," Moro replies.

"Then why can't you leave me alone for once," I mutter under my breath.

"Because it's time for you to come home. I'm bored and you have to entertain me."

I know that tone of voice, I know what it means. I don't understand why Uncle Moro is like this, I don't get why he's so mean. Mother was so nice, mother was so caring. Why is her brother like this?

"You house isn't home," I spit out.

Another one of my kunais hits the center mark, knocking the other one to the ground.

"Kakashi," his voice is getting angrier, "You know you've brought this upon yourself, don't try to deny it. Killing your mother; almost killing Arashi. If you only stopped screwing up then I wouldn't have to punish you."

My arm stops mid throw and drops to my side.

"If you hadn't snuck out tonight then I wouldn't have to punish you like I'm going to," he continues, "If there's anyone to blame it's yourself, and you know it."

I'm sure that if I turned around then I would see that anticipating glint in his eyes. That hunger for what he wants so bad, that hunger to see me in pain.

Mother was so nice, how could her brother be so mean?

Maybe mother wasn't so nice, maybe she really was like Moro. Maybe she hurt Senji like Moro hurts me. Maybe that's the real reason why Senji moved away when he was so young.

No! She couldn't be like Moro! I won't believe it! She was so nice. She loved me, she loved Senji. Wait…if she loved me then why did she leave? Why did she abandon me?

Because I drove her away, I disappointed her. She left because she hates me. It was my fault. She left because of me. If that was my fault then all of this, everything, must be my fault too. Moro must be right.

It really is my fault. No matter how I twist it it still ends up as my fault.

His hand grabs my arm, snaps me out of my thoughts. The training field spins into blackness and the living room of Moro's house spins into view.

Immediately his knee slams into my lower back. I gasp as I collapse to my knees, the kunai that was still in my hand slips from my grasp and lands loudly on the wooden floor. His hand grabs a hold of the back of my neck and pushes me down, his knee still grinding into my back.

The left side of my face lies on the cold, hardwood floor. I reflexively blink as a small sword drives into the wood right in front of my nose. I watch as the dull light from the streetlamps outside filters through the window and reflects off the sword. I wonder what time it is. Two in the morning? Perhaps three? I'm not to sure. But what I am sure of is that I'm condemned to a night of this, a night of torture. I just want daddy to come save me. Is that so much to ask?

A kunai presses against my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut as he runs his hands down my back and grabs a hold of my pants.

My eyes snap open as someone knocks on the door.

"ANBU Lion," a female voice states, "Open the door."

Moro removes the kunai from my neck and yanks the small sword out of the floor.

"Get up," he growls in nervous anger as he stands up.

I roll over and push myself up into a sitting position. I wipe the unshed tears from my eyes and watch as Moro staggers over to the door, pulling his pants up along the way.

"Moro, you have five seconds," the ANBU orders,

He twists around to look at me, "Get up," he repeats in that same low growl, "Go to the kitchen."

I push myself up but I don't bother to move to the kitchen. What's the point? ANBUs only come to people's houses if something's gone wrong. I have a gut feeling that something's happened to my father, something really bad.

Moro opens the door and there stands a woman. Curly brown hair tied back in a low pony and a dog sitting behind her. The light from the streetlamps reflects off her clothes and highlights the splatters of blood that have soaked into them. Like all ANBUs her face is covered by a mask; this one resembles a lion.

"What happened to my father?" I ask, not waiting for her to speak.

Uncle Moro steps to the side, allowing the ANBU and I to fully see each other.

"I've been ordered to retrieve you," she states, holding out a scroll.

I walk forward and take the scroll in my own hands, still shaking in fear from earlier. I slowly open the scroll and read what it says. It says the same things the ANBU told me, only filled with many more bigger and unnecessary words. The signature at the bottom tells me this order is true.

I roll the scroll back up and return it to the ANBU. She holds out her arm and I lightly take a hold of it. I watch as her hands move at incredible speed; performing the familiar seals that I know will transport us to wherever she is meant to take me.

My vision becomes black and the sight of Sandaime's office comes into view.

"ANBU Lion," the female states as I let go of her arm, "Reporting. Retrieval mission completed."

Sandaime turns his head to face us, putting his conversation with Arashi on hold.

"Dismissed," Sandaime replies with a wave of his hand.

She disappears and I just stand there, waiting for someone to tell me something, anything at all.

My eyes go wide as I spot a man standing at the back of the room. His hands shoved in his pockets and his head downcast. I can't see his face but I can still recognize him by his long silver hair. The hair that looks so much like mine.

"Daddy?" I whimper.

Does this mean I can go home again? That I don't have to stay with Uncle Moro anymore? Oh God I hope so. I want to get away from him. I want to forget him. I want to never ever see him again.

"Kakashi," Arashi greets me with a smile and I turn to face him.

He's bloody. So very, very bloody. I look back at my father. The shadows hide the blood on him, but it's still there if I look close enough.

"What's going on," I whisper, "Can I go home?"

Arashi's smile fades slightly. That's never a good sign.

"Unfortunately," Arashi begins, "You won't be able to go home for a couple more days."

"Why?" my voice rises with anger, "Daddy's right here! Why can't I go home?"

"Kakashi," Sandaime's caring voice cuts in, "Your father is going to be very busy for the next few days."

"Then why did you bring me here…" sobs begin to choke my voice, replacing my recent anger, "just to send me back to him?

Sarutobi and Arashi share a quizzical look but I don't really care.

"Is there something wrong?" Arashi's soft voice asks.

"No!" I scream but my sobs betray me, "I can't tell you…I said…I promised…he'll punish me if…I can't tell…I promised…"

"Kakashi," Arashi interrupts my muttering, now kneeling in front of me, "It's okay, you can tell us what's wrong. Whoever it is who's bothering you can't hurt you, we'll protect you."

"It's…it's been years…didn't' protect me before…why…why would you now?" tears flow unwillingly from my eyes.

"Son," my father's voice reaches my ears as he now kneels beside Arashi, "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, "I can't…I can't…can't…can't…can't…"

"Kakashi, please. Do you not trust use? Do you not trust me, your own father?"

I look into father's eyes. There's something about them that's different from before. Some deep sadness. Or maybe that's shame, I'm not too sure though. It could even be guilt. Or maybe it's all of them mixed together; or none at all.

"Son?" father questions again, concern colouring his voice.

I can't tell him. Dad looks so sad already, so buried in his own despair. I can't give him my pain to deal with. Besides, it happened by my own choice. If I had only made fewer mistakes and been more of the perfect son that daddy wanted; then Uncle Moro wouldn't have had to punish me. It's my fault; I need to deal with it, alone. Father would be disappointed if I told him that I had to be punished and that I couldn't even protect myself.

"Kakashi?" Arashi questions.

I shake my head, dropping my gaze to the floor.

"I…I don't want…can't tell you…don't want to make you sad…don't want to…to hurt or…or disappoint…" I choke out between my hiccups and sobs.

My father reaches forward and hugs me, his strong arms swallowing me in their grasp. I stand still, frozen in my spot, tears spilling down my face.

I don't deserve his love.

Doesn't he understand what I've done? Doesn't he get the fact that I killed mother? Doesn't he understand that I don't deserve this love, that this hurts me? Doesn't he understand that this just makes me feel guiltier?

I miss him, I miss his love. But whenever I get his love I feel guilty, ashamed, undeserving.

"Son, please," my father pleads into my ear, "What's wrong?"

"He's scary dad," I whimper, knowing they can barely hear my voice, hoping that they don't hear, "He…he…daddy please…don't make me go back there…please daddy…don't…please…"

Father pulls away from me and holds my shoulders at arm's length.

"Who, Kakashi? Who's scary?" father asks, his eyes and voice full of concern.

I just shake my head again, "I promised…daddy…please understand…I promised not to tell…just…just don't make…don't make me go back…please…I promise to be good…I just want to go home with you…you don't hurt me…please daddy…please…"

"Is it Uncle Moro?" he tentatively asks.

I can hear the fear in his voice, the silent prayer that it's not mom's brother. I can't tell him, I can't ruin our family anymore. I just can't.

"Kakashi?" my father questions.

"NO!" I snap.

Sobs come with new force, choking off my breath, making it impossible to talk. I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to stop the torrent of tears and block out the painful memories.

Strong arms wrap around my tiny, shaking form and uncontrollable sobs rack my body. I bury my head in daddy's shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck, desperately clinging on to the one person I can trust.

"I'm sorry," I whimper, "I should've stopped him. I should've protected myself like I've been training to."

"It's okay," father soothes, "It wasn't your fault. He can't hurt you anymore. I'll protect you."

"He touched me daddy," I mutter quietly, burying my head further into his shoulder, "It…it hurt daddy…hurt so much…"

I can feel the anger growing in daddy. It's scary. Really, really scary.

"What do you mean?" my father growls.

Is he angry at me? He must be. I disappointed him. I wasn't strong enough. Maybe this was a test, maybe he knew all along.

I failed the test.

"Son?" my father asks, his voice losing some of its angry edge.

"He touched me," I repeat, "Where…where you and mommy always…always said that…that…that…" a new wave of sobs cuts off my words.

My father stiffens. I can feel his anger growing, his chakra getting stronger. It's suffocating, it weighs down the air, makes it hard to breath.

"Please daddy," I beg, "I'm sorry…please…please don't be angry…please…"

"Sakumo," Arashi's commanding voice interrupts my babbling.

"That bastard," my father spits out, pulling away from me, "That fucking bastard! How could he? HOW?"

My arms drop limply to my side as I watch father stand up. There's so much anger in his eyes. It's terrifying. I don't like father when he's like this. He's not the same person; he's not my dad when he's like this.

"Sakumo!" Arashi repeats in that same strong and commanding voice, "Control yourself! You can't afford to do anything stupid! Not after this last mission!"

What happened? What happened in the last mission? Did something bad happen? Why won't anyone tell me anything? Did daddy do something wrong?

"I'm going to kill him," father growls, "I trusted him. I'm going to kill that bastard."

"Sakumo!" I faintly hear Sarutobi yell.

I watch helplessly as father makes a series of seals with his hands and then disappears. A few seconds later both Arashi and Sarutobi make the same seals and disappear in the same way.

"Daddy?" I whimper, collapsing to my knees and catching myself with my hands, "Daddy?"

They left me. Abandoned me. Left me all alone. Daddy doesn't want me. He hates me for breaking our family apart again. He thinks I'm weak. I couldn't protect myself and he hates me for it. He's going to leave me alone. He's going to make me live with Uncle Moro again. He's going to punish me

I'd rather be alone then live with Moro again.

Maybe I should run away. Go live by myself in another village. Away from everyone's accusing eyes. Away to a place where no one knows who I am, where no one knows of the Hatakes. A place where I don't have any expectations to live up to. With no expectations I won't fail anyone.

I stand up and wipe my tears away. There's no need to cry anymore. I've made up my mind. I'm leaving so I won't hurt anyone ever again.

I think hard, trying to remember my academy days. I slowly perform a few seals. I haven't done this since my chakra got sealed and I can only hope that I'll still be able to do it.

The room spins into a black void and then my vision clears to reveal a training field near the outskirts of Konoha.

I sigh in relief. I can still do it, even with my chakra sealed.

I jump into the trees of the surrounding forest and run from branch to branch, away from the village. How long can I run now? How much stamina have I really lost? I guess I'll find out now.

I pass over the small stone wall that marks the border of Konoha. How long have I been running now? I haven't been paying attention to the passage of time. My lungs are starting to burn.

I forgot my medication.

I jump up the branches of one particularly tall tree. I know that since I'm still small the top part of the tree, the weakest part, will still be able to bear my weight. I near the top and I have to slow down and start climbing more carefully, picking and choosing the strongest branches to hold my weight.

I stop about ten of fifteen feet from the top; the tree isn't strong enough to hold my weight further up. I stand on a branch; my hand rests on the tree's trunk to steady myself.

Slowly, careful to keep my balance, I turn around to face Konoha. The sun's rising. Its rays cast a variety of beautiful colours over the village; reds, yellows, oranges, even a few streaks of blues and purples.

It's an amazing sight that strikes a feeling of loneliness through me; almost as if I was punched in the stomach. I almost fall from the overwhelming emotions but I manage to catch myself at the last second.

This is it. I'm running away from the only place I've ever known, the only life I understand. I'm a missing-nin now; condemned to a life of solitude and loneliness.

I'm an idiot. I'm seven years old with a sever heart condition and I've run away without my medication. I'm alone and I'm going to die alone.

I'm a lonely idiot.

I should go back, I know I should but I can't. Everyone hates me; everyone knows who I am and what I've done. I can't bear to look into anyone's accusing eyes anymore. I just can't.

I close my eyes, letting the cool breeze tousle my hair and caress my face. I reach up and pull up my mask. I'm alone now. I have to be a strong shinobi if I want to stay alive; if I want to survive. A few tears manage to escape my closed eyes but the wind quickly wipes them away for me.

I turn around, turning my back to Konoha, my past, my friends, and even what remains of my family. I drop down the tree, branch by branch, until I land on the hard ground.

My stomach growls. When was the last time I ate? Dinner? No, I didn't have dinner. I didn't have lunch either. So breakfast was my last meal. About twenty-four hours ago.

So now I'm a lonely and hungry idiot.

"Great, just what I've always wanted to be," I sarcastically mutter to myself.

Slowly I walk through the forest floor, picking a path through the foliage. I don't pay attention to the time. It doesn't really matter. I'm just as alone now as I was two hours ago, or two minutes ago, or even two seconds ago.

A hand covers my mouth and an arm wraps around my abdomen. Someone's trapped me from behind. My eyes widen in panic. How did I not notice them? Why wasn't I paying attention like I should've been?

"This silver hair, this black mask. I'll be damned Masako but this is definitely the White Fang's son," the man finishes with a laugh.

Two other people walk into my line of vision. Two men, one with short brown hair and one with long black hair.

"I wonder if he gives good sport, eh?" the one with brown hair chuckles.

"He's just a kid," the black-haired one states, he sounds a little more concerned, a little more afraid, "Why is he out here all alone?"

"Good point," the one behind me says, fear now in his voice, "This is probably a trap."

I can't panic; I have to be strong if I want to survive. I have to remember my training. I know I have an advantage; I'm seven so they won't think I'm a threat.

Quickly, with speed I didn't know I had, I reach my right arm back and grab a kunai out of the holster on my capture's leg and proceed to jab it into his thigh. I wish I was taller and could reach higher.

I faintly hear him swear but I don't stick around. I rip the kunai out of his leg; I know I can't lose my only weapon. I turn around to face the one that captured me before so that I only have to dodge one person, and I bolt. I run as fast as I can, passing the man who held me captive.

It doesn't make a difference, the other two are quickly in front of me and I have to stop. I can hear my laboured breathing as I stand there, all three of them slowly closing in on me. I've lost my advantage of surprise and now they have the advantage of experience.

I duck as a sword cuts through the air where I once stood. It comes from behind me, from my former captor. My hand shoots up and wraps around the blade of the sword, stopping its movement but cutting deep into my skin. I wince as I pull hard on the sword, ripping it from his hands but also tearing my own skin. With the sword now in my control I spin around to face his shocked eyes. I take the kunai and throw it with the deadly accuracy of years of training.

I watch as it imbeds itself in his neck and he falls to his knees, gasping for air he can't get. Shocked eyes stare wide-eyed at me as blood sprays from his neck, splattering on my face and clothes.

I killed him.

The sword slides from my gasp. I know the other two are still here. I know I shouldn't have turned my back on them and left myself unprotected. A small part of my brain is screaming at me to keep moving, to protect myself, to at least pay attention to my surroundings. But I can't. I killed him. I actually killed another person. Ended a life. His blood on my hands.

Something's happening behind me but I don't pay attention. I can barely hear the sounds of fighting above the rushing of blood in my ears.

I just stare at his limp body. He's laying face down now, blood collecting in a pool under his neck and head. He will never move again; never breathe, never think, never feel. I just murdered someone's son, someone's friend. Perhaps a brother, or maybe even someone's dad. Maybe he's a father, or I guess he was a father, and I just killed him. Left his child all alone like I've been left alone.

What kind of monster am I?

"Kakashi!" a strangely familiar voice shouts.

I should pay attention to that voice. I think he's trying to help me but I don't deserve to be helped. I'm a murderer. A lonely, hungry, idiotic murderer.

"Kakashi!" that same voice shouts again.

It's closer now, harder to ignore, harder to block out.

"Kakashi!" he shouts again.

I blink, "Ji-san?" I whimper; I haven't called Jiraiya 'Ji-san' in years.

He's kneeling in front of me, "Ka…"

"I'm sorry!" I blurt out, tears escaping form my eyes, "I didn't…I didn't mean…I didn't want to…it…it was…an accident…not die…I didn't want…I'm so sorry…please…I…I did…"

"It's okay Kakashi," Jiraiya interrupts my babbling, "It's okay."

He takes me in a hug and I sob into his chest. I can smell the blood of the man I killed on me.

"I shouldn't have…I didn't mean to get in trouble…I shouldn't have run away….I should've been good…I should've stayed…please…I didn't mean to hurt anyone," I mutter between my choking sobs, "I'm sorry."

"Shh…It's okay Kakashi," Jiraiya soothes, "You're not in trouble."

"He hates me," I mumble into the Sannin's chest, "He hates me. I couldn't protect myself. I couldn't be strong. He hates me for it. He hates me for tearing apart our family again. I couldn't stop Uncle Moro and he hates me for it," my sobs come with new force, "Daddy hates me. He left me all alone. They all left me alone. They all hate me."

"Kakashi," Jiraiya's caring voice whispers into my ear, "No one hates you. Your dad is concerned and worried about you. He's trying to help you; he's trying to protect you."

"He left me all alone," I choke out, "Even Sandaime and Arashi-sensei left me all alone. They all hate me."

"Kakashi," Jiraiya frustratingly whispers, "That isn't true. They love you, they care for you."

I push myself away from him, furiously shaking my head.

"Don't lie!" I angrily scream, "I can see the anger, the hate in their eyes! In the way they talk to me! In the way they act around me! I'm not blind! I'm not an idiot!"

I just start punching his chest and I don't know why and I can't stop myself, "They hate me…why do they hate me? I try to be good…I'm sorry…so sorry…I'm sorry…please…please….I'm sorry," I blabber on and on, tears streaming down my face.

Jiraiya makes no attempt to stop me, no effort to control my hysterics. Eventually I grow tired and stop, leaning against his chest and sobbing. He hugs me tightly.

"I'm so sorry," I whimper, "Please…I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for Kakashi," Jiraiya soothes, "You've done nothing wrong. You never did anything wrong."

"I'm sorry I'm not perfect," I mutter into his chest.

The sobs finally stop, my tears finally spent.

"Everyone's perfect," Jiraiya comforts me, "in their own way, faults and all."

He picks me up as he stands up. I snuggle into his warm body and bury my head into his chest. He starts to run, run back to the village I suppose. I don't really care anymore. I'm too tired to care, to exhausting to pay attention.

I close my eyes and let the relaxing comfort of sleep creep up on me and steal me from the waking world.


	7. Chapter Six

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_Also… I am VERY, VERY, VERY sorry for the delay in updating all of my stories. I got really sick and then got hit with final exams (yah semester system! No more Chemistry or Physics!). Plus I desperately needed a break from constantly writing depressing stories – it's pretty mentally draining on me. But I'm rested, relaxed, and ready to go now and hopefully there won't be anymore more breaks for awhile._

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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_**Important, please read!**_

_I have decided that this story is going to go up to the Kakashi Gaiden. Once I reach that point this story will end and I will start a new (yet to be named) story that picks up after the Kakashi Gaiden (else this story will end up like 900 chapters long – which is just silly). From now on I have decided that I will finish Fade to Black first and then go on and finish Self-Sustained Hell (hopefully). Since my other story, Red Hand, is not connected to any of my other stories I will be updating it randomly and it is not currently at the top of my priority list. Once Fade To Black and Self-Sustained Hell (unless I end up referencing too much to events in Kakashi's past, then I might have to put SSH on hold until I finish a few other storues) are completed then I will start writing stories in the chronological order that they take place (in terms of Kakashi's age). I have story ideas that go up to the end of the 2.5 year time skip that the manga took. Yes, that means that I have more stories that I'm writing and waiting to release after Fade To Black and Self-Sustained Hell are done. _

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_**Part of The Kakashi Chronicles, that currently include (in chronological order):**_

_Fade to Black_

_Black Day_

_Self-Sustained Hell_

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"What the fuck are you doing!" I take the glass of sake away from the man slumped over the bar, "Really?" I sit down on the stool beside my long-time friend, not bothering to hide my anger, "I'm serious? What do you think you're doing?"

"Drinking?" he asks in confusion as he looks up at me, "What else does it look like I'm doing?"

So he isn't completely drunk yet, that's good. That's actually really good. He's in far better shape then I thought he would be in right now.

"Do you know that you still have a son? Do you know he thinks you hate him? Do you know that you're his father?"

He nods in a silent response as he reaches for the glass of sake again. I quickly grab his hand and stop it from reaching the glass.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods and tries to reach the glass again but I just grip his arm more tightly to stop him.

"For fuck sakes Sakumo!" My anger is getting the best of me, "This is not the time for you to be drinking away your sorrow! You have a son that needs you, go be the father you've never really been to begin with!"

I knew as soon as I said the last sentence that I shouldn't have said it. Not here, not in this public place. Sakumo's reputation is already shattered by his last, disastrous mission if he reacts badly to this then it's only going to make this village hate him more.

But he doesn't. He doesn't get angry or yell at me or do anything to suggest that he disagrees with what I just said. In fact, he stops reaching for the glass and turns his head away to stare at the wall so he doesn't have to look at me.

After a few minutes he breaks the silence between us, "Do you know that I've never done anything with Kakashi except train him. I never took him fishing, or went for walks, or played some sport with him. I never played tag with him, took him to the movies, or read him a book. Nothing," his voice his breaking, "All I've ever done is train him."

"Sakumo…"

"Don't try to make it better," he interrupts me, turning to face me again.

I can see the tears that glisten, unshed, in his eyes. Perhaps now that he's realized his mistake he will be able to fix it. Maybe now he will start to be the father that Kakashi deserved long ago.

"I didn't see it," he whispers, "I should've seen it but I didn't. I shouldn't have let him stay with Moro – I knew that man was fucked. And… and Kakashi, my own son, doesn't even trust me enough to tell me when something is wrong," his hands clench into fists as they rest on top of the bar, "He doesn't trust me."

"He trusts you, he was just scared. Scared you would hate him for not being strong enough to protect himself," I try to comfort my broken friend, my previous anger now forgotten.

"I don't know why Jiraiya…" his voice shudders with grief, "I don't know. Why did I let him become a shinobi? And why so young? What was I thinking?"

"You thought it was the right thing to do. This is a war, he was capable, he wanted it. You never thought this would happen, no one did. You were just trying to make him happy," I smile at him, "You were just being a father."

"For some reason," Sakumo runs a tired hand through his hair, "I remember having this exact conversation before only our roles were reversed – I was defending putting Kakashi in the Academy so young and you were telling me how I made a mistake."

"Situations change, people change, we have to adapt to our surroundings," I reply.

"So you're only saying what you think will comfort me? You just think I'm heart-broken and pathetic and need some reassurance?"

I slowly nod, "But I've never been that good at lying to you so it seems it doesn't really matter."

"It goes both ways," he mutters in response.

We fall into silence, listening to the noise of the other – far drunker – people in this pub.

"Jiraiya," Sakumo breaks the silence again, "There's something I need to tell you but… but you're probably going to have to report me for it."

I raise an eyebrow in question and nod to show him that he should continue. What has he done to fuck up this situation even more? He's already failed a mission to save teammates – a failure that could potential bring upon the destruction of this whole village – and yet he still has more wrongdoings to confess?

"I killed Moro."

He states it with such clear anger in his voice. For some reason I'm not quite as surprised as I should be for I still haven't found out exactly what Moro has done to all of the sudden bear the brunt of Sandaime's, Arashi's, and now Sakumo's anger.

"Forgive me for being ignorant," I whisper, "but I'm still in the dark as to what Moro has done to garner such anger from so many people."

"He… he…" Sakumo's voice begins to break and the unshed tears become shed, "He used… my son… as… as nothing more then… then… then an object of curiosity."

I briefly close my eyes as the sheer weight of what I've just heard crushes down on me. How could this have happened? How? How could he do such a thing and hide it from everyone? Why didn't Kakashi say something? Why didn't anyone noticed anything. Why didn't **I** noticed anything? And where the fuck has Sakumo been? How did he not notice? It's his fucking son for God's sake. How?

I lean back on the stool and tiredly rub my closed eyes with my right hand, my other hand grips the top of the bar for balance.

"What the fuck have you been doing for years?" I mutter, "Because it sure hasn't involved being a parent."

Sakumo slams his fist into the bar, garnering the attention of many of the people around us, "It's not like you, or anyone else noticed anything either! Don't put all the blame on me for something that everyone that was around Kakashi should've figured out!" He stands up in anger, "My son's been watched since the day he was born yet no one saw this! Where were you!" His voice is rising with every word he speaks, "Or Sarutobi! Or Arashi! Or Tsunade! You've been around him just as much as I have!"

"You're his father!" I scream back, my anger from earlier returning. Only now joined by a strong sense of frustration, "You're the one who has kept so much from him! To tell you the truth, I'm not surprise that he doesn't trust you! You've been one of the worst father's I've ever met!"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT KIND OF FATHER I'VE BEEN!"

I blink, finding my head snapped to the side and black spots dancing in my vision. Luckily for me my hand that was gripping the bar managed to keep me on my stool. I raise my other hand to rub the tender spot on my jaw where Sakumo punched me.

The black spots in my vision fade away and I turn to look at the place where Sakumo stood only moments before. Except now he is gone, replaced by the smoke-stench air of the pub. I sigh as I release my hand from the bar and perform the familiar seals that will take me to the Hokage office. I need to tell Sandaime about Moro and how unstable Sakumo is. There is no way that Kakashi should even be allowed around his father right now. Not well he's like this, not well he has so much of his own pain to still deal with.

Sandaime doesn't even look up from his desk when I appear in his office. He's too used to shinobis just appearing in here – one day it's going to cause him some trouble.

"What brings you here Jiraiya-sensei?"

I turn around to face Arashi, who is sitting on the couch on the far end of the wall with Kakashi laying, asleep, on the same couch – the child's head resting on my former student's lap.

"You look tired," I say with a sad smile as I notice he hasn't even changed his blood-stained clothes yet.

"It's been a long day."

I nod, "I talked to Sakumo at the Jounin pub."

"They didn't kick him out from there?" Arashi questions in surprise.

"They bartender that was on shift is one of Sakumo's closer friends – I guess he felt some pity for him," I shrug.

Arashi rubs his eyes with his left hand in exhaustion, his right hand entangled in Kakashi's hair, "What are we going to do about Sakumo now? Most of the village hates him."

I sigh, "That's what I came here to talk about. Sakumo confessed yet another mistake he's made."

"What has he done now?" Sarutobi's tired voice questions from behind me.

"Well," I move to lean against the wall and shove my hands in my pockets, "He told me that he killed Moro."

"He what!" Arashi moves to get up but quickly realizes that he still has a child laying across his lap and that he can't move.

"Kakashi shouldn't stay with him, he's too unstable right now. He has to deal with all this shit first before he can even begin to be a father to his son again," I continue, ignoring Arashi's outburst, "Which means we need to find a place for Kakashi to stay for awhile until this is all sorted out."

"That's easier said then done," Sarutobi speaks up, "Kakashi isn't going to trust anyone with ease and now that he knows his father is back he's going to want to stay with him again."

"But he can't," Arashi mutters as he leans back against the couch, "So what do we do with him?"

"I guess he can stay with me," I suggest with a shrug, "He knows me so it wouldn't be too hard of an adjustment on his part."

"He can't," Sarutobi says and I send a quizzical look his way.

"You have a mission I need you to do," the Hokage finishes, "And it's long-term. Kakashi can't stay with you."

I sigh, "Fine, who then?"

"He can stay with me," Arashi speaks up.

Both Sarutobi and I turn to look at him. Is he crazy? He can't take care of a kid.

"You don't know the first thing about taking care of a child," I accuse.

"And you do?" he retorts, "You've never had children either. And it's not forever, just until Sakumo gets this all figured out."

"He barely even knows you! Do you think he'll just willingly stay at your house after what's happened before?" I question.

"I'm his sensei now!" my former student yells back, "He has to begin to trust me sometime!"

"Please," a small whimper cuts through the air, "Please don't argue."

The room goes silent. The tension could be cut with a knife. Wait, what the fuck am I? A bad story writer? Oh well, the phrase fits - a knife could cut the tension. All three of us turn to face the child on the couch. Wide eyes stare up at us. How long has he been awake? How much has he heard?

"I just don't want anyone to argue," the child whispers, "Everyone always argues when I'm around, I hate it."

"Kakashi," Arashi whispers to the child, "What do you think about staying with me for awhile?"

"I want to stay with daddy," he whimpers, "Why can't I stay with daddy? And why do you smell like blood?"

Arashi sighs and looks up at me – his face begging for me to help explain to this child what is going on without upsetting him. But the thing is, I'm as clueless as Arashi is in this situation right now.

Sarutobi stands up from his desk and moves to kneel in front of Kakashi, "Your father had to go on another, very important mission. I'm sorry but he's not here for you to stay with and there is no way we're going to allow you to stay with Moro again."

The child pushes himself up into a sitting position but remains leaning against Arashi, "Oh… okay," he stammers, "I guess I can stay with Arashi-sensei."

The Sandaime smiles at the child and stands up, "Very well, now that that is dealt with I suggest you to go and get settled in."

Arashi nods and stands up. Kakashi automatically stands up too and grabs a hold of Arashi's elbow as the shinobi performs those familiar seals and then disappears – the child along with him.

"You lied," I simply state as I turn to look at Sarutobi.

"As far as lies go," he replies, "it was a small one."

"Well… do you have any idea on what we should do now?" I ask the Hokage, not bothering to hide the frustration and exhaustion in my voice. Today really has been a very, very long day.

"I can't worry about Sakumo's health right now," he sighs in his own exhaustion, "I have to figure out a way to protect this village and reverse the damage that Sakumo has now done."

I nod for this doesn't really surprise me too much, "He should be put on suicide watch though," I suggest, "Else Kakashi is going to be left without a father to raise him."

"I can't afford that Jiraiya," Sandaime says as he walks over to one of the many windows in this office, "I can't afford to waste anyone on a suicide watch – we need everyone we can get on the defense. And that includes you **and** Arashi."

I move over to stand next to Sarutobi, "If you mean to use Arashi for missions then why are you allowing Kakashi to stay with him?"

"Because there was no other choice and I cannot worry myself with Kakashi's health or Sakumo's pain, I don't have the time nor the reason. Sakumo is disgraced and his skills will drop along with his own desire to live – I've seen it happen far too many times before."

"So you're just going to give up on him?" Anger starts to fill my voice, "He's not lost to us yet!"

"Even if his skills remain no one in this villages trusts him anymore. No shinobi would consent to work with him. And to tell you the truth, **I** no longer trust him. He could easily choose his teammates over the mission again – even after this."

"His choice saved Arashi, does that hold nothing for you?"

"His choice could destroy this village if we can't reverse the damage done, does that not worry you?" He bitterly retorts, "He is done – he mentally won't be able to handle being a shinobi anymore. He is useless to me now."

"So that's it, you will just give up on your friend because he isn't useful anymore?" I shake my head, "You've changed."

"This is a war Jiraiya, have you forgotten that?" His voice drops to a whisper, "I cannot save everyone I want in the middle of a war – I don't have the time."

"Well, what about Kakashi then? That child will become an amazing **tool**," I say the word 'tool' with anger, "one day if he lives long enough. Are you going to give up on him because you don't have the time?"

"If he lives he lives, if he doesn't he doesn't. I can't worry about him now for he is only a child. He can serve no use to this village right now. In the future he may be able too – but unfortunately it is currently not the future."

"You're not the person I once knew – you've changed too much," I mutter, "I don't like it."

"We all have to adapt to our situations. My focus is on the safety of this village as a whole – not a few individuals who've made their own choices to being upon their own fall."

"So you mean to return Kakashi's care to Sakumo as soon as you have need for Arashi?" I question in concern.

He nods in a silent answer to my question and I sigh in frustration.

"Sakumo is not stable enough to care for a child. I fear Kakashi will only be traumatized further if he is allowed to live with his father again."

"Don't get me wrong Jiraiya," sadness colours the Hokage's voice, "I do care for Kakashi and wish I could do more to help him but I just can't. If this wasn't a time of war I could, and I would, but it is a time of war and my focuses must stay on other matters. And so must yours and Arashi's. This child is not a God – his life is not one that will save or destroy this village."

I nod, "But he's only seven and already been through so much. I can't help feeling the need to protect him."

"None of us can. But we have more important matters to deal with. You are a shinobi first and foremost, remember that."

I sigh, "Very well. But know now that I will not give up on Sakumo and Kakashi like you seem to have. When I have time away from my duties to this village then I will be checking up on them and trying to help them."

"I won't stop you as long as it doesn't interfere with your job."

We fall into silence as we watch the sun set before us – casting the village before us into shadows as night falls. I push away from the window, turn around, and quietly leave the room; letting the Hokage be alone with his own thoughts.

I can't quite shake the feeling that Kakashi may very well be one that could save or destroy this village. There is something remarkable about that child. Something that suggests he is destined for greatness, whether Sarutobi sees it or not.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_I'm sorry for the long delay in updating. I had huge problems getting this chapter to sound even remotely good. I still don't like how it turned out but I can't keep just working on this chapter and I need to move on to the other chapters. Plus, I can't keep everyone writing. So here is the next, not quite as good as the other, installments of _Fade to Black_. Hope you enjoy!_

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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"Kakashi?" I hear Arashi question from the other side of the bathroom door, "You've been in there a long time, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I mutter as I take another clump of my hair and chop it off. It's almost as short as it was before I got sick – before I was asleep for all that time.

"Kakashi?" my sensei's concerned voice reaches my ears.

"I'm fine," I state, a little louder, a little more forced then earlier.

Another clump of hair falls to the floor.

"Kakashi, are you –"

"I'm fine!" I hear my own voice shaking as I watch the last clump of hair that needs to be cut collect on the floor.

The sound of a key scraping within the lock in the doorknob breaks the short moment of silence. The door creaks open and I watch in the mirror as Arashi pushes open the door and freezes in slight shock.

"It was bothering me," I offer as a weak excuse.

He simply nods as he walks over and kneels down in front of me. Slowly he pries the scissors out of my clenched fist and sets them on top of the counter.

"I'm fine," I whisper as a few tears manage to escape my eyes but I quickly wipe them away, "Really, I'm fine."

"I know," he whispers into my ear as he hugs me, "I know you're fine."

And for the first time in a very, very long time I actually feel safe.

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"Kakashi," Arashi kneels down beside me as we stand in front of my house – the Hatake clan's house, "Your father's been very stressed lately and he might not be acting quite like himself. So I want you to be warned of that."

I nod, "I just want to go home."

"Very well," he smiles at me as he stands up, "You can go home now."

I turn to the door and open it, closing it softly behind me. The familiar smell of home reaches my nose. I've missed this place. Oh God have I missed this place.

"Father?" I question as I take my shoes off and place my bag down, "Father?"

No response. But I can hear the sounds of someone breathing in the kitchen. It must be father. And it's only now does the stench of alcohol reach my nose – why didn't I notice that before?

I make my way to the kitchen and slide open the door to reveal a sight I've never seen before. My father, Hatake Sakumo – the White Fang of Konoha, my proud father is just sitting at the kitchen table – a bottle of sake, at least I think it's sake, in his hand. There's many other bottles just kind of strewn everywhere. I'm not sure if they're empty or not and I don't really care to know.

"Father?" I question as I make my way over to his slumped form, "Are you okay?"

I pull a chair over and climb up on it so I'm sitting next to him, "Daddy?"

He looks up at me and I can see the shame, the grief, the emptiness in his eyes – though they're emotions hidden behind a haze of unawareness. Does he know I'm his son? Does he know who I am?

"Daddy?" I take the bottle away from him and crawl over to sit in his lap. "I missed you daddy."

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he hugs me, "I'm so sorry."

"Daddy," I whimper, "Please promise me you won't ever leave me again, okay? I just want to stay with you for awhile, please?"

"I promise."

I can hear the pain in his voice. But why? Why is daddy so sad? What has happened to make him so unlike himself? I'm afraid to ask. I'm afraid to know even though I think I should know, shouldn't I?

"Arashi-sensei said he might be able to take me out on a mission next week," I pull away from father's hug so I can look into his eyes. "He says I'll be a huge help to the village if I succeed."

"That's good," daddy replies as he grabs the sake bottle from earlier and takes a long drink, "That's really good."

"I'm finally growing up daddy," I bury my head into his chest, "I'm going to make you proud."

"Hmm."

We stay like that for an unknown amount of time. I can hear dad's heart beating in his chest – calmly, rhythmically. It reminds me of my own weak heart, which isn't even mine really. I wonder who died to give me this heart. Was it a girl or a boy? Did he or she have siblings, friends, a pet? Was it a shinobi like me or not? How old was the person? A child or an adult? And how many people will die to give me a heart over the years? What was it? Every five to seven years I'll need a new heart. That could add up to a lot of people who die to keep me alive.

I guess it all depends on how long I live. But is that right? Should someone die to keep me alive? What if they deserve life more then me? It's not fair really. But then again, I guess there isn't much in life that is actually fair.

"Daddy?" I question after the silence becomes too much for me to bear, "Are you hungry?"

He makes no response and I quietly sigh as I untangle myself from him. I slide off his lap and make my way over to the cupboard. I search around for awhile, knowing that I'm not really hungry but just want something to do to distract myself.

I find some Instant Ramen and pull out two containers. I have to drag a chair over to the microwave because I'm too short to actually reach it on my own. I climb up on the chair and reach over to the tap to fill the containers with water and then place them in the microwave. I watch the Ramen for the three minutes it takes to cook. The microwaves beeps, I open up the door, and pull out the two containers.

The water from one of them spills onto my hand, burning it, but I barely even notice. It doesn't really hurt, in fact, it kind of feels relaxing. I'm not sure if that is normal or not but I don't care to try and figure it out. I just want daddy to be normal again. Maybe if he eats then everything will be okay.

I place the two Ramen containers on the kitchen table, pushing some of the empty sake bottles to the other end of the table to make room, and I turn around to retrieve two forks – a big one for daddy and a small one for me.

I crawl up onto my chair and hand daddy his fork. He takes it and plays around with his Ramen for awhile. I sit quietly and eat the food I cooked – staring at my hand where the water touched it. It's red and the skin has started to blister already. It stings a little but it doesn't really hurt – it still kind of feels relaxing in a way. Plus, the ball of nervous tension in my stomach as started to dwindle away the more the burn stings. Odd.

I finish the Ramen and look up to see that father hasn't eaten any of his. But why? Isn't daddy hungry? Maybe he ate earlier so he's not hungry anymore.

"I'm going to go to bed daddy, okay?" I say as I slide off the chair.

He doesn't make any response. "Daddy?" I question again.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to go to bed," I repeat as I watch him twirl his fork around in his untouched container of Ramen.

"Uh-uh," he replies and I sigh – knowing that he probably didn't even listen to what I said.

I turn around and leave the suffocating depressive atmosphere of the kitchen. I walk the familiar path to my room and open the door – standing on the tips of my toes to reach the knob – and literally just collapse on my bed. I'm too tired, or maybe just too lazy, to change my clothes or brush my teeth or even climb under the covers.

I crawl my way up to the end of my bed and tightly hug my pillow for whatever comfort it can give me. I look at my hand again to see the blister has grown in size. Perhaps I should pop it? Or is that the wrong thing to do? I can't remember now. I'm sure I learnt want to do with burn blisters at one point but I can't recall that training right now.

I bury my head into the soft pillow and pretend to myself that I'm not crying – even though I can feel the wetness of tears on my cheeks. Maybe if I tell myself I'm fine enough times then I will be. Mind over body… mind over emotions. It can't be too hard, can it?

I wish I had stayed with Arashi-sensei. At least he acts like he cares about me, at least he acts normal. Well, for as far as I understand the meaning of 'normal'.

I just want daddy to love me again.

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I woke up to the sun shining through the window and on to my face – the first thing I did was shower and change. Act normal and everything will be normal.

Once changed, and with my mask pulled up to hide myself from something – what I'm not quite sure anymore, I walk down the hall to be met with the sight of father sleeping on the couch. I quiet my steps a little more then normal and silently make my way to the kitchen.

I have to crawl on the chairs around the table in order to get up high enough to collect the empty bottles and put them in the garbage can. I clean up as quietly as I can, making sure not to drop the bottles or hit them against each other. I don't want to wake father up, he might be angry if I wake him up.

"Kakashi?"

One of the bottles slips from my grasp as father's voice startles me. I flinch, my back facing my dad, as the glass crashes against the tile floor and breaks apart – the sound is unnaturally loud in the quiet stillness of this house. Father's hand grabs my right wrist and twists me around.

"What are you doing!" He backhands me across the face.

I stumble backwards and fall onto the broken shards of glass on the floor – cutting my right forearm as it lands directly on the sharp edges. I blink back the tears that threaten to escape my eyes as I slowly push myself onto my knees.

"I was just cleaning," I manage to keep my voice from not-really shaking. Why did he hit me? I did nothing wrong. Did I?

"Don't," he mutters, "It's not your job. And you can't do it properly anyways."

I nod, gently pulling out a few pieces of glass that stuck into my skin. The cuts aren't deep and they don't bleed much, which I'm thankful for.

"Are you hungry?" My dad's voice sounds different – rougher, harsher. I don't like it, I want my old daddy back.

"A little."

"I'm going to make some eggs then," he states and then makes his way over to the cupboard.

"What about the glass?" I quietly ask.

"Leave it… it's not your job to clean this house, didn't I just say that?"

I push myself back up to a standing position and walk over to the fridge. I open up the door and search the contents. "We don't have any eggs dad."

"Or for fuck sakes."

I can't understand why dad is so angry. He never used to be this way. Why now? What has happened to change him so much? Why can't he just be like my old daddy?

"I'll go buy some daddy," I say, closing the fridge door.

He sighs and reaches into his pocket. He grabs a handful of change and tosses it in my direction. I catch it easily and place it in my pocket. "I won't be long."

Father nods quietly and I turn around. I quietly leave. It's cold outside but I ignore it. The village is bustling with energy, even in this part. It's usually quieter here but for some reason it isn't today.

A few people that I recognize as Uchihas and Hyugas look up at me but quickly turn their heads away – as if seeing me is painful to them. But why? I did nothing wrong, did I?

I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way down the street – making sure to not make eye contact with anyone. Eye contact makes people want to care about me and protect me, which I don't need. I'm seven and a Chunin, I don't need anyone helping me but myself.

I reach the store and silently enter. Just go in, buy the eggs, and leave. In and out. Less time I'm in the public the less amount of people who will stare at me. Whatever happened in daddy's in last mission seems to have gotten around pretty fast.

I grab the eggs, open the carton to check to make sure none of them are broken, and then bring them to the counter. I have to stand on the balls of my feet in order to reach the counter – a fact that still annoys me. The lady at the counter smiles at me and rings the eggs through. I hand her the money, she gives me my change back and hands me the eggs in a plastic bag.

I quietly leave the store and make my way back home. Left hand in my pocket, right hand holding the bag of eggs. The streets are getting busier by the moment, something I don't like that much.

"Hi!"

I blink as my forward progress is halted by some unknown person. Who would dare talk to me? Who would want to talk to me?

"Hello?" The voice questions.

I raise my line of vision from the person's shoes to their face. A girl – around my age – with brown eyes and long, curly, auburn hair obstructs my view.

I try to walk around her but she moves to the side and blocks my path.

"Aren't you going to greet me?" She places her hands on her hips and scowls.

"No."

She lets out a heavy sigh. "My name's Nozomi. I think you're interesting so I've decided that we're going to be friends!"

"No."

Who does this girl think she is? She's strange, that's for sure. But is this common for her? Does she just randomly go up to people and declare that they're friends? Because as far as I know, two people's consent are needed for a friendship.

"What do you mean? I said we're going to be friends, so we're going to be friends!"

"No."

I step around her and continue walking home. Hoping she gets the hint and leaves me alone.

Sadly, I hoped for too much.

"Where are you going?" she asks as she falls into step beside me.

"Away from you."

"What! Don't be so mean! I'm allowing you to be **MY **friend. That's a privilege not many people get!"

"Do you even know what 'privilege' means? Or did you parents say it once and you decided you were a 'big girl' and were going to use the word too?"

"No! Why are you so mean?"

"Why are you so annoying?"

She sighs and falls silent – finally. At least I'm almost home. Then I can get away from this Nozomi girl and never see her again.

"What's you're name anyways?" she questions.

"None of your business."

"You're name is 'none of your business'?" She giggles. "That's a silly name!"

"Oh God," I mutter. "Please tell me you're not really **that** stupid."

"Of course not! I was being funny. You know, you're suppose to laugh."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I'll try not to forget." I don't even bother to hide the sarcasm in my voice. What's the point?

"This is my house." I state. "I'm going in. And no, you can't come in. And no, I won't call you later. And no, we're not friends so don't talk to me ever again."

"You so un-friendly!" she calls out to me as I retreat into the safety of my home. Making sure to lock the door incase she gets any ridiculous ideas.

"Who was that?" father asks, a bottle of sake already in his hands.

I place the carton of eggs on the table and hand him the change. "Just some girl who decided, quite randomly and unexpectedly, that we were friends."

"Hmm… interesting."

"Very."

He stands up and begins making breakfast. I notice that he at least cleaned up the broken glass – though he hasn't done anything else really.

"There's somewhere we need to go later," father tells me as he places a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me.

He pours me a glass of orange juice and then sits down with his own plate of food.

I pull down my mask. "Really? Where?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

I nod… there's no point trying to pry information out of father if he doesn't want to give it. Besides, for now I'm content to just sit and eat breakfast for him while he's still sober, while he's still my dad. Because I know, his sobriety won't last for long – he's already drinking.

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I really don't think we should be here with father this drunk. But that decision isn't really mine to make.

Father pushes open the door to room 203 of the hospital. I don't like hospitals. They only ever bring bad news.

"I've kept this hidden for far too long," father slurs, "But I think you should know now what lays here."

"Is that… is that…" I stutter, "Mother?"

Father softly closes the door behind us while I just stand here, frozen in complete shock.

"How long?" I finally dare to ask as I walk over to the edge of the bed. She has many machines hooked to her, and a breathing mask over her mouth and nose.

"It's been almost a year now."

The alcohol makes father more blunt with the words he speaks. Makes him less caring of the feelings of others.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tears flow freely from my face as relief washes over me.

"Son…" Father places his hand on my shoulder and kneels down beside me. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "She's brain dead. She's been brain dead since the day she came back from her mission."

"Why didn't you ever tell me!" I pull away from his touch in anger. "You never said anything! WHY!"

My head snaps to the side as father backhands me, for the second time today.

"Don't raise your voice at me," he growls in anger. "I did what was best for you."

"Why did you bring me here?" I choke out.

"Because it's time now to let her go and I figured you should be here to see it. If you really want to be a shinobi you have to get used to this – you'll see it multiple times in your life. Who knows, maybe one day you'll have to be the one to make the decision on whether to pull the plug or not."

"Why are you telling me this?" I mutter. "It was easier when I didn't know."

"You can't always be ignorant of the world around you Kakashi. If you want to be anyone worth anything you have to become knowledge about what's happening around you. I'm not going to be able to protect you for the rest of your life. I can't shield you from the world anymore."

I open my mouth to reply but a knock on the door interrupts me. The door squeaks open and in walks Tsunade. She smiles softly at me as she closes the door behind me. But I see in her eyes that she didn't expect me to be here – she didn't think I knew.

I wish I still didn't know.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asks my father in a quiet voice. "There's still hope."

"Fool's hope, nothing more," he answers. "I can't keep living my life waiting. This needs to be finished, this needs closure."

"Daddy, please…" I take a few steps backwards until my back hits the wall. "Please… you're not yourself… please…"

"This isn't your decision."

"Then why did you bring me here!" I can feel my anger growing. "Why did you tell me mother was alive just to kill her a few minutes later! What made you think that's an okay thing to do!"

"Don't yell at me!"

I watch as his hand comes up to hit me, yet again, but it's forced to stop as Tsunade herself grabs father's arm.

"Don't take your anger out on Kakashi," she whispers, "he's done nothing wrong."

"I don't want to watch. I want to go home." I wipe the tears away and will myself to stop crying – it's embarrassing.

"You're watching!" father yells at me. "That's why you're here. To get you used to this."

"For God's sake Sakumo! The kids seven years old. If he doesn't want to watch he doesn't have to!" Tsunade snaps. "Get a hold of yourself. Do you see what you're doing? Do you see how you're hurting your son?"

"Don't tell me how to raise my child!"

"Shut-up," I mutter, "Just fucking shut-up."

They both freeze and turn to face me. "Where did you learn that word?" father asks, I can hear the anger in his voice.

"From you, who else?" I feel tired all of the sudden. Weary. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I want to sleep.

Tsunade shakes her head. "Are we doing this now or not?" she asks. "I have things I need to do."

"Do it." Father replies, as if what's going to happen is nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Like killing your wife, my mother, is something that happens everyday. Like dinner, or training, or washing.

"I'm going home."

"No you're not!"

"I'm not watching this… this isn't happening. I'm going home." I turn and leave. Father makes no attempt to stop me. No anger. No yelling. No hitting. Nothing.

And that's kind of scary.

I sigh and shove my hands in my pockets as I make my way home. The roads are silent, not surprising since it's dinner time right now.

"There you are!"

I look up to see the girl from yesterday – was Nozomi her name? – sitting on the steps in front of the door to my house.

I sigh in frustration. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you. My parents told me that you come from a bad family. I wanted to know if that's true," she smiles at me. "But I doubt it is, right?"

I shove past her and unlock the door. "My father made a mistake, that doesn't make him a horrible person. And tell your parents that I'm not the same as my father."

"Something's wrong."

"Yah… you're here." I slam the door behind her and lock it shut. I don't want to face her. I don't want to see her. She's just annoying and stupid and makes me angry.

"Hey! Don't slam the door on me!"

I ignore her and make my way to the room. I collapse onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. I close my eyes to stop the torrent of tears that threatens to spill from my eyes. How could father do this? For so long I thought mother was dead. Now he shows me that she's alive, just to kill her. That doesn't make sense. Why didn't he just let me live on thinking she was dead?

But why don't I feel as upset? And why didn't I try to stop him? I just left. Just walked away. As if I can just pretend that this day never happened. Which is probably what I'll do – because that's what I always do.

The front door slams shut and I know that father is home. I can smell the alcohol from here; and that's probably not a good thing. I hear him rummage around in the kitchen. Sounds of crashing as he knocks things down reaches my ears.

He screams. Words that grate against my ears. Words that tear at my heart. I can hear him throw things. Objects breaking. I don't know what they are. Maybe pots, maybe pictures, maybe something that I would rather not have broken. I don't know.

I wish I could help him. I wish I could fix whatever happened to make him hurt so… but I can't. And I know I can't. I'm powerless against whatever demons haunt him.

And that hurts the most.

Eventually his breakdown quiets and I brave leaving my room to see the results. I find him in his chair, slumped against the kitchen table. I stay standing at the doorway… unsure whether I should approach him or not.

He's drunk, I know that. He's angry, I know that. Those two things combined are probably not the best combination. However, it's hard for me just to turn around and walk away from him. He needs someone, but I know I can't give him what he needs. I'm just a kid.

I'm just seven years old. What can I do to help? Especially if I don't even know what the real problem is.

He's glazed and unfocused eyes look up to stare at me. "What do you want?"

A heavy sigh escapes my lips. "I'm going to bed."

I turn and walk away. There's nothing I can do to fix him. There's nothing I can say to make his pain go away.

Nothing.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_I'm sorry for the very long delay in updating. I had some personal problems – my parent's split up so that kind of took up most of my time. As many of you probably know divorce is often ugly and nasty and I had the lovely decision of trying to figure out who I was living with and trying to not have a full fledge mental breakdown. But I'm all good now and everything's settled and I have no foreseen interference with my writing until finals in June (and it's high school finals so they're not that hard to deal with)._

_Also... I know this chapter is shorter than normal but it just fit to end it here and you've all waited long enough for an update as it is. It's now been proofread and I think I've caught all the little mistakes I had before... so it should be all good now!  
_

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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_**/\/Four Days Later\/\**_

I wasn't going to be required to kill.

At least, that was the plan. The plan failed. The plan didn't work out at all.

An ambush. It wasn't too surprising… I guess they happen all the time. But still. I hadn't really been prepared – which is my own fault.

My first real mission for Konoha ended in success. Though the way we got to success was a failure. Two of the team died.

I wasn't quite fast enough.

Arashi-sensei keeps telling me it wasn't my fault. I shouldn't have had to do what I did. It wasn't suppose to be my responsibility. But the fact is that it did end up as my responsibility. Their lives were in my hands. But I couldn't save them all.

It was my first real fight, my first real kill. I remember it all, in complete detail. Every second, every decision I had to make. I've gone over the battle countless of times, taking in every decision I made. Every time I made the right decision.

But I just wasn't fast enough.

That will come with training and experience, I know. But it doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't dull the failure any less. I wish it did, but it doesn't.

I guess, in the end, it doesn't really matter. The mission succeed… that's all that counts. But I can't help thinking about the families of the ones that died. Sensei says I can't think like that. He says I'll go insane if I do. But I find it hard not too – I don't know how he manages.

I sigh as I unlock the front door to my house. The air outside is bitterly cold, more so then normally. I don't know if that's because it's actually cold out or if it's just me – probably because it's just me.

I push the door open. I just want to have a shower and go to sleep. It's late and I want to get this blood off of me. Maybe once the blood is gone I'll be able to put this all behind me.

Immediately I'm put on high alert. Every light is turned off except the one at the end of the hall – the one in father's study.

I close the door behind me and take a deep breath as a shudder crawls up my spine. Something feels off… something doesn't feel right. It could just be me and I might just be overreacting but I can't help it.

I slowly make my way down the hall. I pause at the top of the steps that lead down to the study. I can smell alcohol, and is that blood? Why would it smell like blood in father's study? I have a feeling that I should just turn around and leave – go tell Sensei that's something wrong. But I can't, not now. My curiosity and concern has been peaked and I need to know what's going on – I need to know what the source of the blood that taints the air is.

I slowly walk down the steps and pause for a few seconds at the bottom to allow my eyes to adjust to the bright light in this room; a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the house.

I should turn back. Leave before my eyes adjust. Go tell Sensei. But I can't, Sensei's Hokage now, has been for a few weeks, – he has greater things to concern himself about then me. I'm old enough to deal with whatever's happened anyways… I know I am.

If I'm old enough to kill than I'm old enough to deal with my depressed father.

My eyes adjust and the room comes into focus; too late to turn back now.

I wish I had though.

My heart skips a beat, or two, or maybe three… a lot anyways. There's so much blood – no wonder the whole house stinks of it. It's buried into the carpet, mingled with the spilt alcohol to create this gross reddish-brown colour. I can't see father's face, only his back. But the blood tells me what he's done without me needing to see it.

Seppuku. It's a wonder I even know what that is. I can't recall the moment I learned of it. At my age I have no reason to have even heard the word before. But for some reason, right now, I can identify that my father has committed seppuku.

Or is in the midst of committing it.

I can see his body still shaking, his shoulders moving ever-so-slightly with each shuddering breath he takes. He's not dead yet.

I want so badly to believe that there's still time to save him but the blood that coats the floor beneath him begs to differ. I came too late to get the help he needs… too late to save his life.

"Why?" I whisper… knowing that no answer will come to me. Not now, not ever. Father no longer has the energy to speak – and I'd be surprised if he even heard my voice.

Slowly I walk over to him; acutely aware of how my own body shakes and the tears that have managed to escape my eyes.

"Why daddy?" My voice shakes with barely suppressed emotion. "Why leave me alone?" I kneel down in front of him… so very aware of the blood that soaks into my clothes and the organs that have spilled from his body. "Why?"

He raises his head to look up at me. Our eyes meet and I can tell that he is no longer there – his life has fled his eyes and his body is simply waiting for death. There is nothing that can be done to save him now. No words I could speak to garner his attention and get a response. He's gone in all matters except physical – and that will come with time.

A part of me slowly slips away – I can feel it. A part of my soul, something probably vital for everyday life has just shattered and fallen away. To kneel here and stare at the eyes of your father as he dies – that can't be normal.

A katana lays an arm's reach away from me and I know what it's for. It's for the kaishakunin to use to behead the one who commits the seppuku. To kill them during the height of their agony – to release them from the unbearable pain.

Again I briefly wonder where I know all this information from. I shouldn't know this, I'm too young to know this. Yet somehow, for some reason… I do know.

I pick up the katana and stumble up into a standing position. I lay the blade on father's shoulder, pressing against his neck.

I know this is what is suppose to happen – this is what is suppose to be done. But I… I just can't. I don't think it would really make a difference; not at this point in time. He's probably already passed the worse part of the pain. Hell, he's probably not even all there – at least, not enough to even register the pain anymore.

But still… this is the next step in the process. He's suppose to be beheaded; it's the way the process goes. It's the tried and true method, the way that works the best.

I can't do it.

I watch as the katana slips from my shaking hand and clatters against the floor. It bounces a few times and lands a few feet away from me.

Father just looks as me with those dead eyes of his. So many questions I have to ask, so many things I don't yet know.

Now it's too late. I waited too long to ask for my answers and now I will never get them. Whatever knowledge my father has is now lost to the cruel hands of time. Fate has brought us both to this place but why? What did father ever do to cause him to feel he had to kill himself? What happened in that last mission of his? What was it that destroyed him?

Now I may never know… at least not from his voice. Father will never be able to explain his side of the story to me. The only knowledge I will ever gather is from others now.

I collapse to the floor and brings my knees up to my chest, hugging them desperately into my chest. I stare as father's body automatically takes shaking breath after shaking breath. It seems like it takes forever but in time his chest stops moving and he slumps to the side; eventually his body becomes completely limp and falls against the floor with a thud.

I find it hard to see through the haze of tears.

I bury my head into my knees and rock back and forth; desperately trying to block out the sound of my own sobs. If I focus on nothing I find that I can pretend that everything is fine. If I just keep my eyes closed and stare at the accompanying darkness I can almost completely block out the smell of blood.

I hear someone enter the house, soft footsteps that make their way down the hall. I can imagine the person. With each step that I hear I can see exactly how far down the hall the person has made it – how close they are to reaching me.

I don't know who it is and I don't really care. Anyone would be a welcome release from this torturous hell. I realize that I could've left at anytime but it seems wrong to go; seems wrong to leave father all alone, even in death.

The man pauses at the bottom of the stairs – probably taking the time to let his eyes adjust like I had to do. What would he think when he sees what has happened? Did he predict this, did he guess this would be the scene he would see? I can tell by the chakra that his a shinobi… which means he must know about father and what he did – whatever it was – in which case he might have already known that this is what he would see.

He walks towards me… I hear his footsteps – muffled by the blood that coats the floor – as he gets closer and closer.

"Kakashi?" he whispers and I slowly lift my head to meet his gaze. I have to wipe my eyes with the back of my hand to get rid of the tears and clear my vision – it doesn't really help though as I can't stop crying and more tears just replace the ones I wiped away.

"I tried… I really did try," I murmur out – unsure if I'm speaking of my pitiful attempt at being the kaishakunin or of my pitiful attempt at trying to help my father in the past few days… or weeks… or how ever long it's been.

"Come on," he whispers to me, "Let's go see the Hokage, okay?"

"Sensei?" I manage to force out of my constricted throat.

He nods and smiles at me. How can he smile? How can he find the strength within himself to smile?

He offers his hand and I take it; letting him pull me up to a standing position. I feel weak, woozy; I don't think I have the strength to move on my own.

He starts to let go of my hand but I tighten my grip. I don't even know who he is but his presence is somewhat comforting. His physical touch is an anchor to the world of the living.

A large part of my just wants to follow in my father's footsteps. How am I going to survive without him? Who is going to be here to raise me? To teach me? To train me? How will I learn if I have no father to teach me?

"Let's go," I vaguely hear him say.

I turn my head to stare at my father. His lifeless body lays against the floor. Suddenly my body feels so very, very heavy. I don't think I can move… I don't think I even have the strength to follow this man.

I want so badly to see Sensei but somehow I can't bring myself to leave my father. He shouldn't be left alone, his body shouldn't be left like this. Someone needs to clean him up, to make him look presentable. Even in death he still deserves honor and respect. Even in death he deservers more than to be left in a crumpled heap on a bloody floor.

"Kakashi?" he questions and I manage to tear my eyes from daddy's body. I turn my head to stare at the ground.

He moves forward and I follow suit; holding onto his hand as tightly as I dare to. I don't want to be left alone, not again, not today. I stare at the ground as we make our way across the study, up the stairs, down the hall, and into the front room. I see the faint sunlight crossing against the dark wooden floors of the hallway.

It was dusk when I came home… now it's dawn. It's been longer than I thought, far longer than I thought.

He opens the door and I lift my gaze to the streets. I try to stifle my sobs as I wipe the tears away but I can't. And new tears just replace the ones I wipe away. There's no use trying to present an image of nonchalance to the outside world so I just drop my gaze to the ground again.

He moves forward again and I follow suit; grasping even tighter onto his hand. I wonder if what he saw hurt him? Did he care at all? Or was he glad that father died? Was he one of the people that whispered in the streets? Was he one of the ones who hated my father for whatever-it-was that happened in father's last mission? Of was he one of father's friends? I don't recognize him – I've never seen him before. And he seems younger then daddy's friends.

But does he care? Does it hurt him? I want so badly to ask but I don't, it's not my place. And I don't think I could find my voice even if it was my place to ask. I just want to know that someone else cares too. I just want to know that I'm not the only one that hurts from this.

Somehow I have a feeling that I am the only one that this will hurt.

I wonder if daddy was mad at me? Did he hate me? He must of. I must of done something wrong to make him hate me. If daddy loved me he would've found the strength to stay for me… I know he would've.

But he killed himself. He didn't think I was worth living for. He thinks I'm nothing more than trash, useless. I don't deserve his love, I don't deserve his presence or his life.

Daddy hated me until the bitter end. He must of… he had to of. He wouldn't have killed himself if he still loved me, even a little but. It's probably because I drove mother away. It's probably because I wasn't strong enough to protect myself against Uncle Moro.

He hated me because I was weak. He doesn't want me to live… he doesn't think I'm strong enough to carrying on. He must hate me for my weak body… my heart transplants and my health problems. He must think I'm weak and useless and a failure.

Daddy would've stayed if he loved me… if I deserved it.

I hear him knock and I look up; we're already at the Hokage's door. I didn't even notice when we passed by the security guards or when we walked up the stairs. I wasn't paying attention.

Daddy would've be mad at me for not paying attention. He always said that lack of attention causes mistakes, causes death.

"Come in," I hear Sensei call from inside. He sounds so cheerful, just like always.

He pushes the door open and we walk in. I try desperately to suppress my sobs and I manage to contain them to mere sniffles. Daddy might've died because he thought I was useless but I'll prove to Sensei that I'm worth something.

I don't know what yet… but something.

"What brings you here Shikaku? So early in the morning?" Sensei asks with a small chuckle. He's standing with his back facing us, staring out of the window. He doesn't see us, doesn't see the blood that covers me – daddy's blood.

"Sensei?" I whisper, flinching at the sound of my own voice – dry and cracked.

"Kakashi?" Sensei asks. I can hear the worry in his voice as he turns around to look at us. "What… what happened to you two?"

I can see the confusion and shock flash across his face at the sight of us; but it's quickly replaced with his normal, calm expression.

I let go of his hand – Shikaku's hand – and let my arm fall to my side. We just stand there, the three of us… just stand in silence. I think Sensei's in shock but I'm not sure. Does he know? Can he figure it out just by how I look? How I'm acting? I wouldn't be surprised if he could… after all he is Hokage now.

"My… fa… father," I eventually manage to choke out. I curse my own weakness at not being able to control my emotions. Daddy always said that emotions are a shinobi's greatest weakness; they bring nothing but trouble.

"I'll speak to you later Hokage," Shikaku states.

Sensei doesn't reply to the man and instead he quickly covers the distance between us and hugs me. I relax into the comfort of his arms and let the sobs come freely.

Tomorrow daddy… tomorrow I'll be strong for you. Tomorrow I'll start making you proud. At least your death has taught me how weak I once was.

Not anymore. Now I will be the perfect shinobi.

I will make you proud daddy. I promise.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_This is seriously probably the most angst-ridden chapter I have ever written for any of my stories. It's actually the first chapter I've ever wrote that I actually cried while writing. I'm not sure if it's actually because this chapter is really emotional and angsty or if it's just the fact that I'm in a really emotional state with my family and everything at the moment. /\shrugs/\ So if I make you cry I'm sorry… but be comforted by the fact that I also cried._

_Oh… and child abuse is again prevalent in this chapter… sorry!_

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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Something in my chest hurts.

I know they're probably looking for me – concerned I might do something silly like run away or hurt myself. I don't think I will but you never really know with me.

And I really want the pain in my chest to go away.

I stayed in Sensei's office all day and all night… I couldn't bring myself to leave. He tried to stay with me but he had other things to do – being Hokage and all.

I hope someone dealt with daddy's body. God, I hope I don't have to go back home; I hope I don't have to go back there. It hurts too much; it's too much for me to bear.

I'm so tired. I couldn't sleep; the pain's still too fresh, the memories too vivid. I see him still – his broken, bloody, and lifeless body – even in daylight I see him. How could I dare to sleep? If the nightmares come with such force while I'm awake what power will they hold when I'm sleeping?

I can still smell the blood.

Somewhere along the way I've determined that this is my fault. I don't think that's right. Actually, in all truth, I've been told over and over again since it happened that it isn't my fault.

But I know it is. He would've stayed if he loved me, he would've stayed if I was worth it, he would've stayed if I was strong enough.

He would've stayed if only… if only… if only… if only _something_. I don't know, but something. There has to be something.

There's always a reason. A logical explanation. A course of action. A plan. There's always a reason.

There's always a reason.

And daddy's reason was my failure. Or _something_ of that nature. It has to be. It's the only logical explanation.

It's my fault.

The light from the rising sun breaks through the branches of the surrounding forest and lands lightly on my face; shaking me from my thoughts. My kunai traces lines across the ground as my back rests lightly against the rough bark of the tree.

"Hey."

I look up to see that girl – Nozomi – standing in front of me. I didn't notice she was here before. I should probably be paying more attention to my surroundings. I have to now, daddy's not here to protect me anymore.

"Hey," I softly reply.

She sits down beside me; the tree's trunk is just big enough for us both to sit comfortably beside each other.

"I heard about your father."

"Hm."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't kill him." I can't suppress the anger in my voice. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

She sighs. "You know…"

"Save your pity for someone else," I interrupt her. "I don't need it."

She looks taken back; a little angry even. I guess she's probably pissed that she went through all that effort to find me to only have her words be rejected. A part of me regrets this, a part of me wishes I didn't have to be so bitter towards her. She's done nothing to deserve this from me.

But I know that it's easier to hurt her and push her away now then it would be to do it later when she becomes to close.

Something about friendship scares me.

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I don't cry.

I watch as the casket is slowly lowered into the ground but I don't cry. I wonder how much of father is actually in the white casket. Somehow I think there isn't much. Most shinobi's are burned once dead; burned to hide their secrets.

Sensei's here, along with Sandaime… Jiraiya too – though he looks like a tired mess. He must've just gotten back from a mission not that long ago.

That's probably why it's taken so long to have the funeral. They must've wanted to wait for Jiraiya to get back. I wonder if he knows how daddy died? I guess he does, someone must've told him.

I don't cry. The tears wouldn't be able to match the pain that engulfs my heart so why bother? I wonder if it's normal to not cry at one's father's funeral. I doubt it is.

There's a couple other people here too… people I don't recognize. Friends of daddy's? I don't know… I don't think so. Maybe just teammates, maybe just people who thought good of him before this whole mess started.

I don't cry.

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The kunai traces lines across my wrist. The thin streams of blood drip onto the tile floor.

They sent me to live with my brother. They sent me to live with Senji and his wife – Leia. They sent me away because they can't stand to see me… because they know that this is all my fault. This terrible mess that's become our lives is all my fault. They sent me away with nothing more than father's Chakra Blade – the very thing that he killed himself with.

Somehow I don't think that's right.

And the tears don't help anymore… somehow the blood seems to though. Just a little at least, and that's all I can ask for. A little relief from this tormenting pain, a little relief from the ache that the hole in my soul, where father used to be, created.

I wonder if this terrible pain will ever go away. I'm in a daze now, a trance. Sensei looks at me worriedly when he thinks I can't see him.

It's been a month and I haven't had a day off. Shinobis are dieing every day and there's not enough left to replace them. Sensei keeps saying his sorry but he has no choice; I'm capable so they have to use me.

I understand. And I don't mind. I really don't. It's okay… I'd rather be on missions then here in this house.

I never knew how screwed-up my brother really was. Nearly every night I come home to the same scene.

He's an alcoholic and a drug addict. And the pain he holds in his eyes is from the pain I've caused him. He hates me for driving mother away… he hates me for being who he was suppose to be. I can't blame him; I'd probably hate me too if I was him.

Actually… I hate me and I am myself right now. I don't wonder how people can hate me – I wonder how they can't hate me.

I like to believe that somehow I'm rebuilding the reputation my father lost. Somehow I'm making up for daddy's mistake. I like to believe that killing others is making up for everything else I've screwed up in.

But I know that's probably nothing more than a lie. Sometimes it's easier to live in a lie than to live in reality.

It can't be right to live like this.

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He yells at me. He screams and says it's all my fault. He swears and throws stuff. He hits me.

I could run away but I don't. His glare freezes me to the spot. I deserve it anyways. It is all my fault and this is the least I can do to try and make up for it. So I let him treat me how it wants. It hurts me but at least it sort of helps him.

I hope it does anyways.

And I can see it in his eyes. The pain lessons a little more each time he gets angry at me. He tells me, all the time, that our places should have been switched. He says that he would've done so much better with the talents I have. He says that I wasted what I was given and that I did nothing but fuck everything up.

My brother hates me. I don't hate him for it – I understand. I simply try to lessen his pain.

Sometimes I wonder if it's the alcohol or drugs that's talking and not actually him. It could be, but I don't think so.

I don't know how it started but somewhere along the way his wife became a female version of Uncle Moro.

I hate her for it.

And I know it's probably the drugs, she's just as fucked up as Senji, but it doesn't make the pain any more bearable. It doesn't make the tears any less salty or the blood any less red. The drugs allow them to escape the pain they feel.

But I have nothing. Nothing but the blue-brown veins that are visible on the underneath of my wrist – the blue-brown veins that bleed the red-brown blood that gives me life.

It releases Endorphins – Senji told me that when he caught me. He didn't seem surprised at the torture I give myself, and he doesn't seem to care.

And I wonder if the others will ever notice. Do they know? Do they care? Does it really even matter? I'm nothing but a speck in this world – nothing but a child who happens to be good at killing others. I'm no more than a tool that the village can use for the greater good; or what they say is the greater good.

And sometimes I wonder if this is all just me going insane.

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They hate me. Not the adults this time – though I'm sure they still hate me too – but the children; the others my age.

I've seen them, talked to them, Sensei always has me spar with them. I beat them all, every time. It's not my fault that I'm more skilled than them… but they seem to hate me for it.

They hate my father too. They don't even know him but they hate him for what he did. The fact that he's dead doesn't change the words they say about him, or the tone of their voices. And they hate me because I'm his son; and that's really not my fault.

They gang up on me. At night when I'm making my way home – returning from a mission. Sometimes I fight back but most of the time I'm too exhausted and my nerves are too fried for me to defend myself. And I let them hit me, and I let them beat me, and I let them call me names and hurt me.

Because it lessens the pain in their eyes. They wish they were as strong as me and they hate me because they're jealous. They wonder what it would be like if only they were as strong as me. They wonder if less people would die if they were capable of carrying out missions. They wonder if they will ever be able to be like me.

They're jealous when they see me coming home from mission reports; blood-stained and droopy-eyed. They hurt me because it makes them hurt just a little less.

And what's a little more pain to add to the piles I already have?

And I hope they will never manage to become as strong as me… because if they do then they will finally learn the pain that comes with the murders I commit each day.

I'd rather take that pain myself then give it to them.

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I guess at my age I shouldn't quite be like this. I guess at my age I shouldn't quite act like this. It's hard you know, to forget. That image is still burned into my mind – father's broken and bloody body. It returns every night.

Just to remind me of my failure.

And the blood that I draw from my wrists – it's there to remind me of all those I've killed. Of the children and the adults who's lives I took for no other reason than words on a scroll.

They, the adults, all look at my with concern and ask me how I am. I say the only things that I know will calm their minds and ease their hearts.

But we all know that it's all just one big lie.

The days all mush together into one. One long drawn out day that began with father's death and hasn't quite ended yet. Even though it's been months, almost a year, I still feel as if that fateful day hasn't ended.

There's no more tears left to cry. No more blood left to spill. Nothing to ease the pain that won't heal. It's suppose to go away with time. It's suppose to ease as the days pass on by.

But it hasn't.

And somehow the killing keeps my mind blank. It's hard to think when your days are consumed by blood-shed and killing. It's hard to think when you come home at night shaking and your nerves are fried and the only thing you have to look forward to is getting up in the morning to start the whole thing all over again.

It doesn't matter that my voice hasn't broken yet, or that I haven't even reached the double digits in age. None of that matters because the only thing that matters is the safety of the civilians and the protection of this village.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't born.

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It's my birthday, and I'm nine.

And I don't even remember how long it's been. Years? Months? I don't know. I can't even remember what day it was. I don't remember the date that father killed himself on.

Not that it matters – it's all been a massive blur of missions and murders. People whisper now; words of amazement and wonder. I've built up a little reputation for myself – one that's almost started to rebuild the one that father lost.

I only wish I could fill the hole that's left in my heart.

And Senji still yells. And Leia still rapes. And they both do drugs and drink and leave me to my seclusion in my room. And the blood still drips onto the bathroom tiles. And the mask still hides my face from myself. And the tears still won't come. And the pain won't lessen. And I can't forget and I can't pretend and it's all becoming so much harder to hide.

I've been lying for so long that I don't know what the truth is anymore. The pain is so hidden that it feels as if my heart's been shredded to dust.

The missions are so much more disturbing now. I've proven myself and they trust me. And everyone thinks that I'm so much better than I actually am. And it hurts because I know that one day I will fail and one day I will hurt them all.

And the only beacon of light is Nozomi. She still comes, every now and then. I let her in my house and she sits and talks. Talks of nothing really. But that's okay because just her presence is enough. And for awhile I can pretend that Senji doesn't yell at me and Leia doesn't rape me and the children don't beat me and the adults don't hate me.

But when she leaves it all comes flooding back to me. So I return to the bathroom and let the blood coat the floor and the memories cloud my vision. And I become numb and exhausted and maybe I'll eat and maybe I won't. And somehow I'll end up in bed, and if I'm lucky I'll sleep a couple hours without a nightmare.

Then I'll wake up and start it all over again.

Somehow I don't think this is how a nine year old should be living his life.

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Sensei worries about me. He tells me I need to eat more; that I'm too thin. Jiraiya says the same things when he sees me – which isn't very often since he's usually gone on missions. And Sarutobi carries the same concern in his eyes but he doesn't often speak to me. And Tsunade used to tell me to eat else my heart will fail sooner than it should. But she doesn't talk to me anymore because I don't see her. She's left – ran away from her own pain. Not that I can blame her.

I wish I could run away too. But I can't because too many people depend on me. And that can't be right since I'm only nine. It all seems like it's all too much to put on my shoulder's but the adults believe I can do it. And it worries me because I know I will eventually fail and it will all come crumbling done.

But they don't listen to me when I tell them that. Sensei says I have no self-confidence and that I should believe more in myself. It's hard too though… especially since I know that their image of me is false. They don't know the real me… the one that I hide.

They've never seen the blood on the bathroom tiles. They've never heard the words that come from Senji's mouth. And they've never heard the screams that Leia rips from my throat. Those are the real parts of me but they've never seen them.

Because I hide it all far too well. I wonder what will happen when I finally can't take it all; when the blood isn't enough to dull the pain and let me sleep.

Is it wrong that I steal Senji's alcohol? It probably is but I can't help it. The blood that comes from my wrist still numbs it all but some nights it just isn't quite enough. Sometimes the missions are still too fresh in my mind and I can't sleep. On those night I find myself drinking Senji's alcohol and hating myself for every second.

And at nine years old I know this all so much more fucked up than it should be.

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This time it was so much worse. So, so much worse. A week long mission so terrible that I can't even close my eyes without remembering.

I really don't want to remember.

And I think I cut a little too deep this time. And it hurts a little too much. And the blood coats the bathroom tiles but I still feel. And I shouldn't feel. But I can't get numb and I can't forget. And their faces all blur into one. And their screams won't stop haunting me. And I can't seem to get clean. And I can still smell the blood. It was all too much and there was so much gore. And my heart is racing because I can't forget.

Senji won't shut-up and Leia just wants my body. And I hate myself for what I did. I killed too many, and the mission was too gross. And now I can't forget. And I don't think I can do it all over again.

And Senji won't just fucking shut-up. And Leia breaks down the bathroom door. And she's high and she's horny and she wants what she wants and she wants it all now. And she doesn't notice the blood on the floor and she doesn't notice how pale my skin is. And she rips off my mask and slams me against the wall. And she tries to kiss me but I just can't do this any longer.

It all happened so fast. So fucking fast. And I don't know… maybe I just snapped but I probably shouldn't have had my kunai holster still strapped to my thigh.

But I did and that was a mistake. Because I don't know why it happened but it did, and it was just too fast. When it was over she was dead – a kunai through her throat. And her blood poured out onto the tile floor – the brightness of it contrasts with the dullness of my own blood. It all mingles together and I can't block the smell and I hate myself and it all happened far too fast – it was just too fast.

And Senji screams and yells and cries. I can tell he's high. He gets pissed and he hits me and I don't fight back. His wheelchair can't find grip on the bloody tile floor and it slips and he falls. And I just can't take it anymore.

When it was all over he died in the same way as his wife. And his limp body lays in the pool of blood. I find it odd that all three of us have blood that coats the bathroom floor but only two of us are dead.

And my heart shatters even more than I thought it could. It all hurts too much and it breaks me apart. And the blood soaks my clothes and my wrists won't stop bleeding because I cut them too deep.

I just want to sleep and never wake up. But I can't because I'm needed and everyone's too dependant on me. And I've failed but I tried to tell them I would. I hope they don't mind but I know they will.

And I can't stop hearing the screams from the one's that I've killed. And the tears come. I fall to my knees and the blood soaks my clothes even more. And it all hurts too much. And I pull up my mask because I'm a weakling and a wimp and I can't stand to see my own face. And my shoulder's shake and the sobs won't stop and I just want it all to go away.

And I know I'll never forget.

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Sensei finds me a few hours later; bloody and cold and crying and frightened. He tries to touch me but I jerk away. His touch is cold and shocking and I don't deserve it because I killed two more people. And the blood is sticky and dry and so very, very thick.

He kneels down beside me and tells me it's okay. He whispers words of comfort and somehow just his presence is enough. And the sobs start to subdue and the tears start to dry and maybe, just maybe, Sensei will be able to take the pain away.

He asks what happen and I shake my head. He presses me for answers but I don't give them. He knows that I killed them – only an idiot wouldn't be able to figure that out.

He takes me to his office and I sleep on the couch there. And he comes in the morning with Sarutobi and Jiraiya. They look at me with worry and concern and he tells me I should clean up. But I'm too tired to get up and too drained to face another day. And I don't need their concern or their pity or their worried looks.

And Jiraiya kneels down in front of the couch and I look into his eyes. He asks me what's wrong, why I did what I did. He asks me if Senji hurt me and I shake my head but it's all so hard to hide.

And I know they know… and they know that I know that they know. But no one wants to speak yet everyone knows that something has to be said. And they know I've hid the truth but they don't know what the truth is. And it's all just too tiring for me to explain and I just want to sleep and pretend and lie to them all.

It's so much easier to lie.

But Jiraiya and Sensei won't let me fly under the radar anymore. And they keep asking me why and I keep refusing to answer. And it seems so very odd that Sarutobi doesn't speak to me. I think maybe I remind him too much of my father – but I can't be sure.

And they keep trying to pry an answer out of me and it's becoming so much harder to not speak. And they don't need to know that I failed to protect myself again. They don't need to know that I let Senji and Leia and all those children hurt me. And they don't need to know how much of a failure I am. And it hurts to lie to them but to tell the truth would hurt them more.

But they won't leave me alone and I snap at them. I get up and I yell and I scream. I tell them how much it all hurts and the nightmares and the pain. Before I know it I just can't stop and I'm spilling it all; Senji's yelling, Leia's raping, the children's beatings, the nightmares, the cutting, the blood on the bathroom tiles, the alcohol, the inability to eat, the fear, and the memories.

Oh God, those fucking memories.

And I'm sobbing, and I'm crying, and I just want it all to go away. And my heart is shattering even more and I can't believe I'm telling them all this. The lies were so much easier to live with and the truth hurts too much. And this is all more than I can bear.

And I tell them I'm sorry and this is all my fault and if I had only been better and stronger than father wouldn't have died and none of this would've happened. And I'm so very, very sorry. And I'm sorry I disappointed them and I'm sorry I failed. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to handle this all. And I'm sorry I'm not as dependable as they thought. And I'm just so fucking sorry that I've failed again.

I collapse back onto the couch and bury my head in my hands. The tears won't stop and sobs shake my shoulders and I'm ashamed of everything I am.

Sensei sits down beside me and wraps his arm around me. I bury my head in his chest and cry, clutching onto his shirt as if it's a lifeline. My tears soak his shirt but I can still smell the blood that dried on my clothes. And I can't forget because I can never forget. I'm a fucking Genius and got cursed with perfect memory and I hate it – just like I hate everything I am.

I'm just a murderer; a failure of a Shinobi. I haven't made my father proud. All I've done is hide and lie and pretend and failed to protect myself. And the tears soak my mask and I curse myself for being so weak. I wish I could stop, I wish I could get myself under control. But I can't. And it's all too unbearable and it all hurts too much. And I'm sorry and I wish I could take it all back. But I can't.

And my heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest. It's all too painful to take, and it will never go away. Time's suppose to heal everything but it all hurts even more than it did the day daddy died.

And I wish so very much that I could turn back time and stop all this from happening but I can't. And this whole mess has always been my fault. And no one understands and no one will ever believe me because they don't know what I've done.

It all makes me hate myself so much more than I thought I could.

And I can't move and I can't detach myself from Sensei's warm embrace because somehow he makes all the pain go away. And maybe if I had just listened to him more than perhaps I wouldn't have ended up like this.

And at nine years old I know I shouldn't be in such despair and grief. And at nine years old I'm suppose to be so much stronger and better and mentally capable but I'm not and I can't be and it's all to confusing and emotional and destructive and draining.

All I want is to see the blood on the bathroom tiles because the blood holds my memories. And I'd rather have the memories on the white tiles than in my mind. But I can't because I'm in Sensei's office and now he knows because I was stupid enough to tell him. Now they all know and they'll all worry and I won't be able to do anything and I won't be able to numb myself. Now I'll have to face myself and everything I am. I can't hide anymore because they won't let me.

And it all terrifies me so, so very much.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_Holy… another update? Yup… that's right. It's like, insane writing period for me. I can't believe that I'm this inspired – I just can't stop! Yah for me:)__ Plus… this is the longest chapter of the story so far. So another yah for me:)_

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm cold and shaking and it feels so odd in here. And Sensei's bathroom tiles are gray, not white, and my blood doesn't look the same on gray tiles. And it feels so awkward to stain his floors – even when I wipe it clean.

It doesn't feel right to spill my blood in Sensei's house. Even if it calms me down, it stills feels wrong.

And I can't believe that I'm living in Sensei's house. But there's no where else to go and they don't want me living alone. However, I don't know how this is considered living with someone else – Sensei is rarely home. He's always out on missions.

And I'm not because they won't let me. They think that I need a rest, that I'm going to break if I keep doing missions.

They don't understand that I'm already broken. They don't understand that it's the missions that keep me sane. They don't understand that being left alone in this house, with nothing to do, is not helping me. They don't understand that there isn't really much that they can do to help me.

It's not so bad when Sensei's here. Just his presence is calming enough. And I don't mind being around him because I trust him. I know he will never hurt me – after all, he is the Hokage.

And sometimes I wonder why the Hokage is doing such dangerous missions. But this is a time of war and I guess if he's needed than he has to go, Hokage or not.

The blood still splatters on the tile floor. But the tiles are gray and it doesn't feel right and it doesn't calm me like it should. And Sensei worries and every time he comes back he asks me how I am. And I lie and say I'm fine but he sees right through it. And he checks my wrists and knows I still cut and he tries to get me to stop but I can't.

It hurts him to see me hurt but he doesn't understand. I always wonder just how much of this war is because of father's mistake. I've asked around and eavesdropped and figured out how important daddy's mission had been. That mission needed to succeed but it didn't and so much of this war is going on because daddy failed. And I wonder, if daddy had lived would he have been able to fix his mistake? I think he would've. Which means that if I had only been strong enough to make daddy want to stay for me than he could've fixed everything and stopped this war.

Then I wouldn't have had to go on all those missions and I wouldn't be where I am – and neither would Konoha. And everything would've been so much different and so much better.

And it's all my fault.

But no one wants to believe me – or they don't want me to think that they believe me. They don't want me to feel guilty because it's harder to function when weighed down with emotions.

And it's still all so unbearable because no matter how hard everyone tries they can't erase the fact that this is all my fault. And I still feel guilty so why don't they just admit to me that it's my fault? I'd rather they tell the truth then lie all the time.

But I can't really blame them. It seems everyone lies… I know I do.

It's all so boring and annoying and I just want to escape. The missions let me escape but they won't let me go on them so now I'm stuck with my blood on the gray tile floors and it doesn't seem right and I still feel.

And I really don't want to feel.

So I leave the house and return to Senji's. His house still smells like blood and the bathroom tiles aren't white anymore – they've been stained an odd brown-ish colour. And they tried to clean this place up but they didn't get everything and blood still stains the bathroom and taints the air. But I'm not here to spill blood on the tile floors because that just doesn't work anymore.

So I take his alcohol and I take his drugs because no one bothered to remove them from the house. And it all feels so wrong and I know I shouldn't be doing this but I can't help it. I shove it all under my Chunin vest and go back to Sensei's house. And I sit on my bed with everything in front of me and I debate with myself whether I should do it or not.

And I do.

I remember what to do because I watched Senji and Leia too many times to ever forget. And I know this is all so wrong and I'm only nine and I shouldn't even feel like I need to do this. But I do and I can't forget and I can't get numb and this is the only thing left. And I use the same razor I use to spill my blood to chop the chunks into a fine powder. And I line it up in little white lines on top of the magazine on my bed. And a part of my mind is screaming at me to stop this and not to do it because I won't be able to go back. And the razor is now stained with my blood and the drugs.

I lean forward and plug one nostril and I snort the line and it kind of hurts but I keep going. And I know this is all so very wrong and I shouldn't be doing this and I'm just becoming more and more of a failure each passing second.

And I finish the line but nothing has really happened so I do the next one, and the next one, and before long it's all gone. And something starts to feel different and I start to feel better and a little happier. I can feel my heart start to race and my mind start to calm down.

And everything seems so much better and happier and I lean back on the bed. I close my eyes and take deep breathes and it all doesn't seem so bad and I just stay there for awhile. And now I know why Senji and Leia liked this drug so much – it makes everything seem not-so-bad and I kind of like.

I think I can get use to this feeling.

I start to feel restless and I want to do something so I get up and leave the house. I walk aimless around the darkness of Konoha – it's nighttime so not many people are out. I want to do something but I don't know what, and I want to talk to someone but I don't know who.

And it feels so nice to not care and to be able to forget and I don't want this feeling to end.

And I walk, and I walk, and I walk, and I walk. I don't know how long I'm out here but I notice it's raining and I don't feel cold. I don't feel anything and it's nice and I wish I could stay like this forever. And the village gets darker and darker and I find myself in the training grounds. I should focus more on where I'm going before I end up outside of Konoha but I don't really care because this all suddenly feels like a game to me. And I take in the cold air on my own because breathing in isn't the hard part – it's breathing out that takes effort.

And I wonder if this is all me going so very, very insane because I shouldn't be so nonchalant. And I'm too close to the edge of the borders and there's still a war going on and who knows what enemies could be lurking in the shadows.

I think I'm starting to get paranoid but I can't help it and everything seems to be falling apart now. And it saddens me because I was feeling so happy and relaxed moments ago but now I don't. Everything suddenly feels like a threat and I can't stand any sound and I hate the rain because it limits my ability to smell.

Maybe I'm crying and maybe I'm not. I can't really tell because the rain is hiding it all. And I fall against a tree and I wonder how I got so far away from town. And it's all coming back and I want the drugs again but they're so far away.

I knew this was a mistake before I even started. I knew I was going to end up fucked over and paranoid because Senji and Leia always ended up like this. And it all hurts so much more than before and I don't know why. And I just want Sensei because Sensei makes me feel safe and not like this. I hate myself for what I've done and what I'm feeling and I want it all to go away but it won't.

And my kunai traces lines across my wrist. And the rain washes the blood away before it hits the ground. And it feels so wrong to not watch it splatter across the tile floors. Everything's so fucked up and I shouldn't be like this. I'm only nine years old; I should be playing tag with my friends and laughing and joking and having a good time. But I'm not.

And I can't make the pain go away anymore. Because nothing works and the drugs don't even fix it. And everything is just a temporary band-aid and I feel like I'm bleeding from the inside out.

I draw my legs up to my chest and hug them. The blood from my wrists soaks into my clothes but the rain washes it all away anyways.

I don't know how long I stay here but I'm getting cold and the rain is far to wet and everything isn't right. I feel as if the world is spinning the wrong way because everything's so screwed up and shouldn't be like this.

And I just want to go on a mission and make myself useful. And maybe if I kill someone it will make all the pain go away.

But I know it won't but that's okay because I can pretend it does. I'm good at pretending and lying and hiding. It's easier to live in a false reality than to face myself.

Because myself is far too ugly to face. And everything I do is wrong and everything I say is wrong. And all I do is make mistakes and screw up and fuck everything up for everyone else. And I try and I try but it doesn't every work out like it should.

And someone's coming. I can hear him and I don't know if that's good or bad. And I want him to leave me alone and not notice me but that probably won't happen. And I wonder if he'll know me or not. And I wonder if he's from Konoha or not. And I wonder if he's an enemy that I'll have to kill. I want to kill but I probably won't be lucky enough to have him be an enemy.

And it all hurts more than it should.

He kneels down in front of me and I raise my head to met his eyes. I don't recognize him but he seems to know me.

He asks me if I'm okay and I shake my head and say I'm sorry. He looks sadly at me and scoops me up in his arms. And I let him because I'm too tired to fight back and I don't care if he hurts me. And I kind of wish he would because then I could focus on the pain and not the memories.

And daddy won't leave me alone and it's pissing me off because it's been so long and he shouldn't be here anymore. I should be able to forget him but I can't and I can't shake the memory and I just want it all to go away.

I think I fell asleep in his arms because the next thing I know I'm in Sensei's office but Sensei isn't here because he's on a mission. So Sarutobi is here instead and the man lays me on the couch and Sarutobi looks sadly at me.

And I wonder why Sarutobi never speaks to me anymore. But I'm too tired to think about it so I fold myself into the fetal position and close my eyes. Someone places a blanket on me but I'm not to sure who and I don't care to find out. And I think that perhaps I should've changed out of my clothes but I'm too tired to. And the wetness makes me shiver but I don't really notice because I'm too exhausted.

And somehow I manage to fall asleep.

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"Hey! Wake-up!"

I groan and blink my eyes to see who it is who so rudely interrupted my sleep.

"Father says I have to be friends with you, or something… so get up lazy-head!"

I blink a couple more times and the blurriness from sleep finally leaves my vision. I recognize the kid who stands before me – he's one who's always standing by when the other kids hurt me… though he himself has never participated in the beatings they all seem to enjoy so much.

"Get-up!"

"Does your father know you smoke?" I groggily question as the scent of smoke assaults my nostrils.

He tilts his head and than laughs. "The adults all say you're amazing, you know that right?"

I sit up and rub the back of my neck to relieve the kink that developed from sleeping on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"Father told me I had to stay with you."

"I don't need a baby-sitter." My voice is a little more angry than I meant it to be. "Especially when you're what, ten?" He nods. "That's only a year older than me."

"They say you've already been on A-rank missions."

My heart skips a few beats as even the mention of those missions brings back memories I'd rather forget. Memories I've tried to forget for so long.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He nods. "The highest I've been on is a C-rank. It's amazing that you're so young and already doing A-rank missions. Especially when you're still only a Chunin."

I push myself off the couch. "Didn't I just tell you I didn't want to talk about it?"

He chuckles. "Well, whatever. I'm suppose to take you back to your house so you can change."

"I think I can get there myself." I don't bother to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

He shrugs. "Sure. I have other things I want to do anyways. Oh, by the way… my name's Asuma so if anyone asks I was with you all day, k?"

"Fine."

And I watch his back as he walks out the door and leaves me all alone in Sensei's office where the air is still and empty because Sensei isn't even here.

I sigh and jump out the window; landing softly on the ground below. My body's shaking and I think I might've caught a cold which is kind of annoying because I don't want to have to deal with a cold.

And I open the door to Sensei's house and the air is just as still and empty as the air in Sensei's office because Sensei isn't here either. And I go to my room and I change my clothes and the drugs are still sitting in that bag on my bed.

I grab that stupid bag and shove it between my mattresses and I take a gulp from one of the bottles of alcohol. It burns my throat but I don't really mind and it doesn't really help because nothing really helps anymore.

And I place all the alcohol in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I wonder if Sensei will ever find it all and what will I tell him if he ever does? I don't know… there isn't really any words that I have that could explain why because I don't really know why I do it all. It doesn't help, it never helps anymore… nothing helps but I keep on trying.

Because I always think that somehow it's going to work this time.

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Sensei always says he's sorry. Sorry for not being here as much as he wishes he could be. Sorry for putting me on such dangerous missions. Sorry for not being able to help me. Sorry for the pain I feel. Sorry for the guilt I feel. Sorry he can't fix it all. Sorry he couldn't protect me from this all.

And he doesn't understand that it's not his fault – it's mine. And maybe he feels the same guilt I do. If he does than I really feel sorry for him because I know how painful it is. I always try to explain to him that it's not his fault and that it's mine and father's and that all this is happening because I failed to help father. But he just shakes his head and says I don't understand because I don't know everything.

And then I yell at him and try to get him to tell me it all but he doesn't. And the only thing I ever got out of him was that he was on the same mission father was on – the one that everyone hates father for. And it all seems so surreal because he knows what I so desperately want to know but he won't tell me. And I think he feels guilty because father gave up the mission to save him but that was father's choice and not his and he shouldn't feel guilty.

And it all makes my head hurt.

My blood stains his gray tile floors and I hate it because it doesn't help anymore but I still do it. And when Sensei's gone on those S-rank missions that I can't go on I reach between my mattresses and pull out the drugs that do nothing but make me forget for awhile and then come crashing down. And I hate myself every time I use but I can't stop and it's amazing how many people will sell drugs to a nine year old. And sometimes I fear that I don't hide the alcohol on my breath as well as I should but if anyone notices they don't say anything.

And I'm almost ten and everyone knows about the blood and the alcohol – but not yet the drugs – yet no one can help me stop because for some reason I don't want to. It all just sort-of makes me numb and sort-of makes me forget… but it doesn't really.

And sometimes I see Asuma and he's going on more dangerous missions because he's eleven now. And he offers me a smoke every now and then and it helps still my shaking hands. And his company is kind of nice. And sometimes Nozomi joins us – but she doesn't smoke – and it all seems so surreal because I think they might kind-of be my friends but I'm not too sure.

Every now and then I go on these missions with Raido – who's fourteen – and Genma –who's eleven – and I feel kind-of like I belong. And it sort of feels nice. And we work really well together, even when Sensei isn't with us. So we keep getting sent on missions together. And sometimes when it's just a B-rank Asuma will come with us. For some reason we all sort-of get along together and our skills compliment each other. And it feels kind of nice because I'm only nine but they don't see that and they respect me and believe in me and let me do more than the adults do when I go with them. And they listen to what I have to say and consider it and realize that I'm actually a little more smarter than the adults think.

But somewhere in the back of my mind I'm terrified that it will all end and I'll be left all alone again. And I don't think I could deal with that so I make sure I don't get too close. That way when they do leave me it won't hurt quite as much.

And it's nice to think that I just might have a few friends.

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It hurts because it's my fault. I couldn't protect them and now they're all injured and Asuma's almost dead and I think Sarutobi hates me for not being able to protect his son. And Sensei keeps saying it's not my fault but I'm so tired of people telling me that because they're all just lying.

And it hurts because they were sort-of my friends; Raido, Genma, and Asuma. And now they're all injured and I wasn't and I couldn't save them and it all happened so fast.

I might be ten now but I'm still not strong enough or skilled enough to save the ones I love. And now nothing dulls the pain – not even the drugs. And more blood covers the gray tile floors than can be healthy. And even Sensei's presence doesn't calm my nerves anymore. And my heart is always racing and I think it might be failing. And I don't want to deal with that anymore.

And Sensei said I broke the seal. But I don't remember but Sensei's not surprised. He said it wasn't designed to hold my chakra in forever and that it shouldn't be a problem because I should be able to control it all now. And he thinks I'm getting better but I'm not – I'm just getting better at hiding everything again.

Nozomi still comes and she doesn't tell me it's not my fault because she knows I don't want to hear it. And she just sits and lets me mumble on about how everything is so hard and everything's my fault. And she holds my hand and tells me that she still likes me and that she doesn't hate me. And sometimes it's enough and sometimes it's not.

But I can't cry anymore because the tears have all dried up. And all the memories just won't leave me alone. But father doesn't really haunt me much anymore because there's so many more worse memories to take his place. But he still comes at night sometimes and I can still smell the blood from his study. And it all torments me and won't leave me alone and nothing makes me numb anymore.

And all the other children hate me more and more with each passing day and each passing mission. They hate me now because I keep coming home and their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers don't. And they hate me because I'm ten and I keep surviving but their love ones are dieing when they're in their twenties and thirties and should be so much stronger and so much more experience than I am. But somehow I'm coming home and they aren't and all the children hate me for it.

At least they've stopped tormenting me about father and his mistake. I guess it's been so long that everyone's gotten bored with him or have just forgotten.

I wish I could forget.

And Sensei keeps sending me on missions because the village has barely any Shinobis left. And so many people are dieing but I keep surviving and it doesn't make sense. And now that I'm older and they think I'm better they want me in ANBU – 'they' being the adults. But Sensei keeps saying that I'm too young and keeps trying to prevent everyone else from getting me to join. And I know he's trying and that he's Hokage but I'm older now and I know that the Hokage doesn't always hold all the power. Sometimes the Elders form the Council that almost always overturns the Hokages decisions. And I know that the Elders are trying to get me into ANBU because they don't know me like Sensei does and they don't care if I live or die. They just know that I can do it so they want me in it because they need me.

And I'm just a tool to them. And I really wouldn't mind being in ANBU because than there's more of a chance that I won't come home. And I never really want to come home from missions anymore because it all holds too much pain. The missions are the only things left that help numb me and help me forget because I get so focused on them that I can't remember the memories. But the missions torment me after because I can't forget them so I have to go on more missions to forget. But more missions just brings more tormenting memories.

It's just one terrible cycle that I can't escape.

And I know that I'm not actually in ANBU because I'm only ten and even the Elders are wary about putting a ten year old in ANBU. So instead they put my on A-rank missions that I know are so much more dangerous than A-rank missions should be. And I know the missions are suppose to be S-rank and I have a feeling that they've been mislabeled on purpose just so that I'll do them. I don't really mind though I think I probably should.

And Sensei says he's sorry because he got out-voted and now I'm out doing mislabeled A-rank missions while Raido, Genma, and Asuma are still sick and injured and in the hospital. And Sarutobi still doesn't look at me. And my heart still aches.

And somehow I think my heart is failing, or my body's rejecting it, or something like that. And I should probably tell someone but I don't really want to because I kind of want my heart to fail so that I won't wake up. Because if I don't wake up then I don't have to face the memories and I don't have to go on missions.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll go to Hell or Heaven. I wonder where father is? Did he end up in Hell? Or did he end up in Heaven? I want to go where he went, even if it was Hell.

Because somehow I don't think Hell would be so bad if father was there with me.

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My lungs burn with every gasping breath I take. And I can't find the energy to get out of bed. And Sensei's not here because he's on a mission and I don't think he'll be back for awhile. But he might be back soon – I can't remember.

And my vision is blurry and my body aches and my heart – oh God my heart feels like it's on fire. And I didn't really want to die this way but I think I might. And there's so many people I still need to talk to and so many things I need to fix.

But it's hard to think because everything hurts so much. And I can't get out of bed because I'm too exhausted and in too much pain. So I curl up in the fetal position and wait. I know this is just my body rejecting my heart.

And maybe I should've taken my medication on a more regular basis. And maybe I should've told someone when my heart first started to hurt. And maybe I shouldn't have drunk and done so many drugs. And maybe I should've ate more. And maybe… maybe I shouldn't have been such a failure.

I think I'm suppose to start a mission today but I can't get out of bed. And maybe someone will come and find me since I'm suppose to be on a mission. And maybe there's still a chance of me surviving. And I don't know how I feel about that.

And my blood feels like it's been replaced with acid and everything hurts so very much. And I stay in the fetal position and whimper because it hurts too much. And sometimes waves of pain hit me and I scream out and I'm left gasping for air. And I keep peeing the bed but my pee is all yellow and red and brown and I don't think that's normal. And my muscles all ache and everything hurts and I never thought I would die like this.

I hear someone come in and I can barely sense Sensei's chakra through the haze of pain that surrounds my brain. And he calls my name but I don't have the energy to respond. He opens my bedroom door and finds me all huddled up under the blankets whimpering and moaning and it all hurts so much more than I can bear.

He's at my side in seconds and pulls back the sheets. He sees the pee – all red and brown and yellow-ish – that stains the sheets and he scoops me up. Before I know it we're at the hospital and I feel so tired and I just want to sleep and never wake up. But the doctor's won't let me.

They all ask me questions and someone calls for my file. And Sensei talks to them and explains about my heart. And it all happens so fast and someone asks me what hurts but I can't respond because my throat is so dry.

And they lay me on a gurney and wheel me off to an operating room. And someone asks if there's any hearts available for me and someone else replies in the affirmative. And I curse God because I know they'll do a transplant and I know I'll survive and I'll wake up and be all fine. And I'll be able to do this all over again.

And I really don't want to wake up. Because this is what I deserve. And I should die because I should've died back in that last mission – I should've died and Raido and Genma and Asuma should've been fine. But I didn't because I failed and I don't want to face that failure and I don't want to face myself and I just want to go to Hell and be with daddy.

And even on the operating table the memories won't leave me alone. And all those people I've killed scream at me and tell me this is what I deserve. And it makes me want to cover my ears but I can't because my body hurts too much and the doctor's gave me a drug to make me sleep. And I can't believe that those fucking ghosts won't just leave me alone – I'm on a God damned operating table and yet they still torture me.

It all makes my head hurt. And I'm glad for the drugs because they make the screams a little more duller and the memories a little more faded. And it all kind of makes me numb but not really because nothing can make me numb anymore.

Nothing.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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I can hear the whispered conversation as I slowly wake up from my drug-induced sleep.

"So his body just rejected his heart?" I hear Sensei ask.

"Well… it's been going on for awhile now." I hear the doctor reply. "His body attacked the heart and killed the muscle. Dead muscle leaks hemoglobin – it's toxic to the kidneys. That's probably what caused the worst pain for him."

"But you replaced his heart, so is he going to be fine now?"

The doctor sighs. "The dead tissue, along with the hemoglobin, was washed into the blood stream – its going to be painful for him as the liver tries to clean the body out. That's why he's on such a high dosage of Morphine. It might be enough, it might not. We'll see how he feels when he wakes up."

"And if it's not enough?" Sensei asks; I can hear the concern in his voice.

"We'll put him in a chemically induced coma to sleep through the pain. But that carries its own risks."

I can almost see Sensei; nodding – with that heavy, sad look in his eyes – and scratching the back of his head.

I let the constant, even beeping of the heart monitoring machine lull me back to sleep. Because I know in my drug-induced sleep that I don't have any nightmares. I don't see the faces of those I've killed or hear their screams. And it's so much nicer then reality. And I kind-of hope that if I go back to sleep I won't have to wake-up.

I really don't want to wake-up.

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It hurts. It hurts so much that I can barely even focus. And all I can do is curl up into the fetal position and pretend it doesn't hurt. And if I imagine hard enough it almost doesn't hurt.

But it still does. And my breaths come in such ragged and short gasps that I feel as if I'm not getting any air at all. And isn't this a hospital? Shouldn't there be someone here to help me?

It feels as if my insides have been ripped right out of my body and I'm nothing but a shell that's bleeding. And it hurts so fucking much. And all I can do is whimper – I would cry if I had any tears left but I don't. And I would scream if my throat wasn't so dry and choked; but it is so I can't scream.

All I can do is hug my knees to my chest and bury my head into my knees and try to block out the pain. But it doesn't really help and it hurts so much that I can't even think straight.

Someone rolls me onto my back and shoves a tube down my throat. And I gag because it happened so fast that I couldn't prepare myself. I hear someone shout out for something but I can't understand what they're all saying. And I think they gave me more drugs because it doesn't hurt quite as much and my body is sort-of relaxed.

Eventually I fall back asleep.

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"Kakashi?" Sensei quietly asks.

I blink a couple times to get my bearings and clear the cloudiness of sleep from my vision.

"Kakashi? How are you feeling?"

"Better." My voice is hoarse and my throat is dry and sort of hurts. And that's probably because of the tube that was shoved down my throat before.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

I shrug and I know he's speaking of my heart. "I didn't really notice."

Sensei sighs and I'm sure if I looked at him I would see that same sadness in his eyes that's always there whenever he looks at me. And sometimes it hurts just to think about all the pain and worry I've caused him.

I push myself up into a sitting position and absentmindedly scratch the back of my hand – where the IV line is.

Sensei grabs my hand to still it. "Don't do that," he chides.

I sigh because it's really itchy and I really want to scratch it. But I listen to Sensei and let my hands rest on the top of my lap.

"There's a temporary truce in place right now," Sensei says, "So I won't be going on any missions for awhile because I have to stay here and be a diplomat. Try to get this temporary truce into a permanent one."

"That's good," I murmur, "For Konoha and all."

"It's good for you too."

I look up – raising my line of vision from my hands to Sensei's face – and lift my right eyebrow in question.

"I'll be here more. I'll be able to help you more than I could before."

"I don't need help." My voice is so low that even I can barely hear it. And I know my words are all a lie but I ignore that fact.

He smiles sadly at me. And I so badly want to make him happy again. Because before all this shit happened Sensei used to smile and actually be happy – not like now. Now all his smiles are laced with hidden sadness and suppressed pain.

And I know it's all my fault.

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I don't like it now that Sensei is here more often. It's harder to hide the drugs and the alcohol. And I fear cutting because I fear that I won't always clean up all the blood. And it's harder to deal with everything because I have no way to cope.

He's trying though – trying to help me – and I have to give him credit for that. But I'm so far beyond help that there's nothing left to save. But Sensei doesn't understand that because Sensei's an optimist and he always thinks he can fix everything.

But he can't. And he doesn't understand that. And it hurts so much to see him trying so hard even though I know that it won't help. Because I can't be helped.

But Sensei doesn't understand that.

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I freeze.

And Sensei just stares. I look up from my hunched over position on my bed. And time seems to slow because he's just staring at me with this pain-filled expression that hurts just to look at.

"What… what are you doing?" he finally stammers out.

I tilt my head to the side. "Cocaine." I reply; my voice calm and even and nonchalant because the drugs have already started to take affect.

And he just stares. And I don't think he knows what to do. And a part of me feels a little guilty but the drugs squash that feeling immediately.

Sensei walks over and takes away the magazine with the neat little white lines on it. And he leaves the room with it and I hear the toilet flush and I know he just got rid of it all. And a part of me is a little bitter because that was my money that he just flushed down the toilet.

He walks back into the room and sits down on my bed beside me. I wipe my nose to get rid of the left over cocaine that didn't quite get snorted all the way up. And he just looks at me and eventually I can't stand to see his sad expression so I look away.

Suddenly the far wall has become so very, very interesting. And I can hear Sensei breathing and it hurts to know that I've failed him again.

"How long?" Sensei asks. He's so quite that I have to strain to understand him.

I shrug. "Since Senji died."

And he makes no response – at least, not verbally. But I think he probably nodded, as that is the most common reaction that I get from him now.

"Why?"

I shrug. "No real reason."

He sighs and I think he's frustrated. And it would've been so much easier if he just hadn't caught me. But I hadn't really been hiding it as well as I should've. And maybe that's because subconsciously I wanted him to find out – because maybe subconsciously I still think I might be able to be save.

But I can't be.

"I'm sorry," Sensei whispers.

And I think my heart just skipped a few beats because I didn't expect that at all. And I turn to face him again and just kind-of stare at him and my mouth is just a little but open – not that Sensei can tell because my mask is only pulled down enough to reveal my nose.

"For what?" I finally manage to force out of my suddenly dry throat.

"For not noticing… for not helping sooner… for letting you fall this far."

I think he's about to cry. And I really don't want him to cry because he doesn't need to cry – this isn't his fault.

"I chose to do this." I turn my head to stare at the far wall again. "It's not your fault."

"And it's not yours either."

And maybe it's because I'm exhausted, or maybe it's because I feel so insanely isolated and lonely, or maybe it's because it's all just too much for me to handle… I don't know why but I find that the tears have come back. And it's so incredibly hard for me to choke back the sobs.

I hug my knees to my chest and keep staring at the wall. And I desperately try to hide the tears from Sensei because he doesn't need to know how weak I am and how much this hurts.

But it doesn't matter because he already knows. He is Hokage after all, and he is my Sensei, and it's so ridiculously hard for me to hide anything from him anymore. And he places his hand on my shoulder and slowly pulls me back and I find myself laying on the bed with my head on his lap. And my tears soak his pants but he doesn't seem to care.

For some reason he's presence seems to calm me.

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I promised. I promised Sensei not to cut, not to drink, and not to do drugs. And I didn't think it would be this hard but it is.

And now the nightmares are coming back because there's nothing left to sort-of numb them. And it really, really hurts. And I can't sleep anymore.

I keep waking up screaming because the memories are too fresh again. And I really want to numb it all but I can't. And the only thing that kind-of sort-of helps is when Sensei comes at night and sometimes he just stands by the door until I fall asleep. But if the nightmares are so bad that I fear to even close my eyes than he'll lay down beside me and let me cry into his chest because it hurts too much to keep it all inside. And eventually I'll fall back asleep because I'll get to exhausted to keep my eyes open.

And I don't know if I'm mistaken but I swear I see Sensei smiling at me sometimes – and his smiles are genuine and there isn't any pain hidden underneath it all. And I think he thinks that I'm getting better and I don't know if I am or not.

But sometimes I dare to hope I am.

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I don't know why I did it. And it doesn't make sense. And I like to believe that it's because I wasn't thinking straight and I was still trapped in the nightmare. But I know that's just a lie.

I touched him where no student should touch their Sensei.

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Jiraiya softly closed the door behind him and turned around to face the other two occupants in the room. The Yondaime sits at his desk with his head in his hands and his elbows resting on the desk top. And Sarutobi stands by the window staring at the rising sun.

And the atmosphere is choking.

"Okay, what happened?" Jiraiya asks – too tired and worn from his last assassination mission to feel like playing a guessing game.

"I thought he was getting better," Arashi whispers and Jiraiya can hear the repressed tears in his voice and he knows that his former student is speaking of Kakashi.

"What happened?" Jiraiya asks again but he's met with complete silence and the Sannin's starting to get pissed because he really wants to clean this blood off of him. "What happened?" Jiraiya's voice is beginning to rise with anger and frustration.

"Kakashi's been having nightmares and I've been sleeping in the same bed with him to comfort him," Arashi mutters.

"He's ten, he doesn't need someone to baby him."

"Yes he does!" Arashi stands up from his desk and Jiraiya can see the tears that streak his face. "But he wouldn't have if we hadn't given him S-rank missions that were 'mislabeled' as A-rank! And he wouldn't have if he hadn't see his father kill himself! And he wouldn't have if any of us had been there years ago when this first started!"

"Tell me what happened!" Jiraiya screams back – but neither of them realize that they're screaming.

And it hurts Jiraiya so much to see his former student so torn up over his own student.

"What happened?" Jiraiya tries again when he still doesn't get a response.

But the Yondaime doesn't reply and instead he just collapses back into his chair and stares at everything but Jiraiya.

"Kakashi touched Arashi when he was having a nightmare," Sarutobi speaks up – still staring out the window.

"What do mean?" Jiraiya thinks he knows the answer to his own question but he doesn't quite want to believe the conclusion he came to.

"I mean what you think I mean," Sarutobi continues, "He was trying to do what both Moro and Leia, and who knows, maybe Senji too, did to him. And who knows why… maybe it was to confront his past… maybe it's because it's the only form of love he knows… maybe it's because he's just desperate for anything familiar to latch on to. I don't know."

Jiraiya leans against the door because all of the sudden his body seems so very heavy and he didn't expect this to happen.

"It's my fault," Sarutobi whispers. "I've completely ignored him since the day Sakumo died."

"It's not any ones fault!" Arashi raises his voice in anger. "And I'm tired of everyone blaming it on themselves. It's not Kakashi's fault, it's not Sakumo's fault, it's not my fault, it's not Sarutobi faults, it's not Jiraiya's fault, it's not the Elders' fault… it's no ones fault! It was just a string of horrible events that have brought us here – not any specific one!"

The room falls silent and Arashi's burst hangs in the air with no words to replace it. And Jiraiya just sighs and pushes himself off the wall.

"I don't know what to do," Jiraiya murmurs, "And neither do you two. Do what we should've done years ago and just consult a damn psychiatrist."

"And please, tell me how we're suppose to do that Jiraiya?" The Yondaime's voice is bitter. "There hasn't been a trained psychiatrist in this village for years. And all the medic-nins have more pressing things to deal with."

"I don't know. Okay." Jiraiya's voice holds its own bitterness – but it's directed at himself. "Sakumo made us promise to keep Kakashi safe and we all failed. And I don't know what to do because all I've done for the last few years is kill people. That's all we've all done – including Kakashi. We don't know how to fix anyone because we can't even fix ourselves."

"Where is Kakashi right now?" Sarutobi asks with a hint of worry in his voice; interrupting Jiraiya from his rant.

Arashi shrugs. "I left him in the other room."

"I know," Sarutobi replies. "But I can't sense his chakra anymore."

The Yondaime stands up immediately and all three of them stare in silence at each other for a few moments before Arashi finally breaks the stupor and bolts for the other room.

The three of them get there at nearly the same time to find the same scene.

Kakashi broke his promise to not cut. And Arashi's at his side in seconds and the blood coats the carpet. And it stinks. And Jiraiya has to make a conscious effort not to throw-up because for some reason he finds it really difficult to see the ten year old Kakashi covered in his own blood.

Or maybe it's because it's hard for Jiraiya to see his former student covered in the blood of his own student. Or maybe what hurts Jiraiya is that he's watching Arashi break right in front of him as his former student tries to help Kakashi.

Whatever the reason is Jiraiya has to leave because he can't stand to stay in that room. So he makes himself useful by calling for the medic-nins and then he goes to clean up.

And he's sorry because he failed to keep his promise to Sakumo and now Kakashi is the one that's paying the most.

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"I'm sorry."

Arashi and Jiraiya both look up from their conversation to stare at me. It's obvious that they didn't realize I had woken up.

It hurts to look at them because their eyes are so sad and I know that's because of me. And I broke the promise I made to Sensei and I'm so very sorry because I didn't mean to.

I haven't meant to do a lot of things in my life.

"Don't be," Sensei says with a small smile. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

"I broke my promise," I whisper, "That's enough to be sorry about."

"Kakashi… please," Arashi murmurs, "Just listen to me… okay?"

I nod as I push myself into a sitting position.

"I don't want you to promise me anything else anymore… I just want you to try, okay? Just try."

I can hear the tears in his voice and I know he wants so badly to cry but he won't because he doesn't want to upset me.

"This is no ones fault," Jiraiya says – and it's so nice to hear his voice after being away from him for so long. "What's happened to you, how you're feeling, this war, everything that's happened – it's not any ones fault. Remember that. It isn't your fault and it wasn't your father's fault, and it isn't my fault or Arashi's fault. It's no ones fault. And you have to believe that. Everyone has to start to believe that because we're all holding more guilt than we need to, even Arashi and I."

"But…"

"Don't," Sensei interrupts me. "It's not your fault. And you've done nothing wrong except be stuck in a horrible string of bad situations. And you should be proud that you've managed to deal with all this like you have. But it's time to move on and it's time to put the past in the past. And we're here to help you."

I sigh and close my eyes for a brief moment. "But… but I can never stop seeing them, I can never stop hearing them."

"Them?" Jiraiya questions.

"Them…" I murmur. "The ones I've killed, the ones who's blood is on my hands. The ghosts that won't leave me alone."

"It's time to let them go Kakashi… because they will only come for as long as you let them."

I sigh again because I know that they don't understand. They don't see them like I do – they don't hear them like I do. And I don't know how I can make them understand because it hurts so much more than I can convey.

"You know Sensei…" My voice starts to get choked with sobs. "I didn't mean too… I never meant…"

"I know," Sensei interrupts me. "I know."

I so badly want to believe them that it's going to be alright. But I can't because they've told me this so many times before and nothing has ever come from it.

But maybe it will be different this time.

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The temporary truce broke. And I knew it was going to happen but I wanted to believe that it wouldn't. I was attempting to be optimistic and trying to believe that Sensei could get it to become a permanent truce. But he couldn't and now Konoha needs all the Shinobis it can get.

And I'm back doing mislabeled A-rank missions and the nightmares are coming back. And it hurts because it was starting to get slightly better but now I'm fucked over. All those memories, all those ghosts, were starting to dissipate and leave me alone but now there's new ones to replace the old ones. And it's all so fresh and painful again.

Last night I sat on the floor of my bedroom and wrote my suicide letter. I had father's Chakra blade beside me. Carving into my arm. Didn't break the skin though. Just carved. A huge part of me wants to do it, but then another side of me wants to hold off for a bit. That part is so desperately trying to believe Sensei and Jiraiya when they say it's going to get better.

And the nightmares are so bad that I'm waking up and puking because it's all too gory for me to take. And I'm trying to ignore it. And I'm trying to forget. And I'm trying to let go. But I just can't and it hurts too much.

It really, really sucks because it was starting to get better. But then they had to go and break the truce and the war had to start all over again and I had to be thrown back into the fray. And I really just wished I had listen to my mother back when I was five years old – then I would've never become a Shinobi in the first place and I wouldn't be where I am now.

I still wonder why so many lives are placed on my shoulder. I'm only ten and I shouldn't hold such responsibility. But I do and it sucks.

At least Raido and Genma and Asuma are healthy again. And we're all back doing missions together again and it's nice because they're sort-of my friends. And Asuma lends me his smokes and they calm my nerves for a bit. And I'm trying so hard not to cut or drink or do drugs. And I've succeeded in not doing drugs or drinking but I can't stop cutting.

It's so comforting to see the blood splatter on Sensei's gray tile floors. I still miss Senji's white tile floors but there's nothing I can do about that.

And I'm really, really sorry that I'm falling again. And I'm really, really sorry that I can't let go. And I'm really, really sorry that father's memory _still_ haunts me. And I'm just really, really sorry for everything.

And I haven't seen Nozomi in a long, long time.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**2nd Author's Notes: **OMG! UPDATE! But serious... it's summer so I have no school now which means that updates are going to be on a more regular basis. I'm shooting for updates once a week for both this story and _Red Hand_ so let's hope I can stay on that schedule.  
_

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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"He's using Sakumo's Chakra blade now." Jiraiya leans against the railing beside the former Hokage.

Sarutobi sighs. "I didn't think he ever would."

Jiraiya taps his fingers against the smooth wood as the sun sits high above them. "Something has to change or Kakashi's going to end up killing himself."

The Sannin is met with silence from the Hokage and he turns his head to look worriedly at his former sensei.

"Why have you cut yourself off from the kid?" Jiraiya finally dares to ask the question that has been on his mind for such a long time.

"It was my fault… I should've never left Sakumo. I thought he would get passed his pain. I thought he would be able to deal with it himself. But… but he couldn't."

Jiraiya sighs and returns his gaze to watching his fingers tapping against the railing. "Ignoring Kakashi isn't going to make anything better."

"No… but every time I see Kakashi I'm reminded of Sakumo. He looks so much like him… acts so much like him… it's painful to just see him."

"It's painful for us all but that's no excuse. It's our duty to save Kakashi – after all, we're the ones who failed to save Sakumo."

"I don't know how you can do it." Sarutobi's voice falls to a low whisper. "I don't know how you can look at Kakashi without seeing Sakumo."

"I can't. Kakashi is everything Sakumo was – Kakashi is the past and we all hate the past. But that doesn't mean we can ignore him. Kakashi's the future too."

"So Kakashi's both the past and the future? He's only missing the present." Sarutobi's voice is now bitter with memories he'd rather forget.

"I don't think you see what I see." It's Jiraiya's turn to have his voice become a mere whisper. "Kakashi will grow up to be Konoha's trump card. He is strong, intelligent, talented – he is everything needed in a Shinobi and more."

"Except he's Sakumo's son."

"Yeah… except he's Sakumo's son."

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"You're joining my Genin team."

I freeze, staring at the now abandoned bowl of cereal. "Genin team? But…"

"No buts," Sensei interrupts. "You joining my Genin team."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

I roll my eyes. "That's not a reason."

"It's good enough for me."

I sigh and return to eating my cereal. I don't know what Sensei is trying to do but it's not going to work. Being a part of a Genin team isn't going to help me – nor is it going to help Konoha. The Village needs me for more dangerous missions than what I would be able to do as part of a Genin team.

"They're not idiots."

"I know."

"Don't hate them just because they're still Genin. Give them a chance."

I stop eating and look up at Sensei. "Look… I'm not **that** incapable of social interaction. I'll be fine as long as they don't piss me off."

Sensei sighs. "Just don't freak them out – they're already nervous about meeting you."

"Why?"

"You're reputation precedes you… they've heard stories. And unfortunately, most of those stories are true."

I shrug and return to eating. "When?" I ask after I finish the bowl and stand up to place it in the sink.

"Today."

I let the bowl clang into the sink as I force myself to push away the nervousness that starts to eat away at me. They're just people, children, kids my age. Nothing too get worked up about it.

"Kakashi?"

I will my hands to stop shaking. "I'm fine," I quietly whisper.

Sensei places his hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll be okay."

"Of course I will," I mutter, "They're just kids I'm meeting."

"Kids?" Sensei chuckles. "They're both ten, just like you."

"Yah, but they probably still have their innocence." I turn and walk out of the kitchen and back to my room.

Sensei just stares, mouth slightly open, in shock at the empty air where I used to be.

I suddenly feel so very, very cold.

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I stop walking as soon as I catch sight of them.

"What's wrong?" Sensei asks in concern.

I know them. I've seen the two of them before. Seen them so many times that it makes me sick. Especially the boy. Those nights when the kids would torment me and beat me, those nights when I was too weak and tired too fight back – those two where there.

"Kakashi?"

I take a deep breath to calm my mind and settle the shaking of my body. That was then, this is now. They didn't know any better. They were simply jealous and frightened and confused.

"Kakashi?"

"I'm fine." My voice is low and tinted with desperately suppressed anger.

Sensei kneels down in front of me and I'm thankfully that the two kids haven't seen us yet.

"Look, something's wrong… what is it?"

I hate how Sensei can read me so much more than anyone else – so much more than even myself.

"I'm fine." Too bad I'm stubborn and can't allow myself to get any help at all.

Sensei sighs in defeat and stands back up. I know he won't let this go and that later tonight, when we return home, he'll question me until I tell him what's bothering me. But until then I'll refuse to tell him anything – because telling him forces me to accept it all myself.

Together we continue walking to the other two kids who we're meant to meet. We push through the rest of the underbrush until we finally step into the clearing of the small training circle.

The two kids look up from their conversation and quickly stand up. They both bow respectively to Sensei – or I guess who they consider the Yondaime – and then straighten. They look everywhere except at me.

Sensei nudges me slightly and I sigh. "I'm Hatake Kakashi," I mutter.

The girl looks at me and smiles softly. "My name's Chiba Rin. I'm training to be a medic-nin."

I raise an eyebrow in question. "Really? Impressive." Medic-nins are rare because they take many, many years of training. Far more than the average shinobi.

The boy looks up and I can see an anger hidden in his eyes. And I wonder why the hell he's wearing goggles.

"I'm Uchiha Obito," he states.

I look the boy up and down. He's shorter than me and just the way he's built and the way he holds himself I can tell that he isn't the strongest of Shinobis. This child is from the Uchiha clan?

"Do you have the Sharingan yet?" I nonchalantly ask.

"Kakashi!" Sensei snaps. "That's none of your business."

I shrug.

Sensei sighs. "Today and tomorrow I want to be just training so that you guys can get used to working together. Also, I need to see where you guys work well together and where you need help."

The three of us nod in understanding and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. Will these two surprise me and match my abilities or will they be so far below me that I can't stand to fight with them? I don't know but I fear either outcome and somehow I don't think they'll manage to hit the middle of those marks.

This could be an interesting few days.

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"Kakashi!"

I freeze as my katana makes contact with a kunai grasped in Sensei's hand.

"This is a spar! Not a 'see-who-can-kill-the-other-fastest' competition!"

I cringe at the anger in Sensei's voice and let my katana drop limply to my side. Obito stares up at me from his position lying on the ground; eyes wide with horror and fear. Sensei sighs and turns around to help Obito up.

"Kakashi, how many times have I told you? You need to hold back!" Sensei snaps, his back still turned to me.

"It's not my fault he can't keep up," I mutter, sheathing my katana into the holster on my back.

Sensei sharply turns around. "But it** would** be your fault if he died!"

I cringe, again, at the anger and frustration in Sensei's voice and body language.

"Would it really matter?" Is it bad that I don't seem to care whether I do accidentally kill Obito or Rin?

Sensei runs his hand tiredly through his hair and turns around to face me. He looks like he dearly wants to say something but instead he just bites his lip and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I don't want to work with you," Rin speaks up from her seat on a rock a couple feet away. "I don't feel comfortable with you." Her voice is so quiet and timid that I can barely hear her.

"Look at it this way," I reply, "If you ever get in trouble I'm one of your best chances at survival."

"Except you'd pick the mission over our lives any day," Obito accuses, "You don't care about us at all!"

"Stop fighting!" Sensei yells. I don't think he thought it would be this hard for me to join is Genin team.

The three of us fall silent and Sensei just sighs, again, in frustration and exhaustion. "We're done for today," he states, "Meet at the same place and same time tomorrow."

Obito and Rin nod and collect their stuff. A few minutes later their walking home side by side – like friends. That thought strikes a painful chord inside me but I push that away and ignore it.

"We need to talk." Sensei's voice is strained and it makes me cringe, one of many times I've cringed these past few days.

"This was your idea," I state as we start walking back home.

"You're not making this easy for anyone."

"So it's my fault?" I can't hide the anger in my voice. "It's not my fault they're slow, untrained, and can't keep up. Put them on any missions and they're going to get killed."

"That's not the problem." Sensei is getting more and more frustrated by the second. "They're not slow, they're not untrained, they just not Geniuses... and that's not their fault. They're at the level that they should be for their age. That's why you need to hold back."

"Me holding back isn't going to help them at all."

"You're not the one responsible for training them! You have to do what I say if this is going to work at all."

"Maybe it just isn't meant to work."

"Maybe you're just sabotaging this because you can't deal with the fact that a team means you have to share my attention."

It's not the actual statement that shocks me and causes me to stop walking but I think it's just the bitterness of Sensei's voice. Like he resents the fact that he has to care for me now. And that kind of hurts.

Sensei stops walking and turns around to face me. He rubs his eyes in tiredness and kneels down in front of me. "Look. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just… it's just that I'm stressed and tired right now and…"

"It's fine," I interrupt, trying desperately to hide the shock and pain at his previous words. "It's fine."

Sensei mutters something to himself and returns to walking. I fall into step behind him and we stay silent for the rest of the way home.

Or at least we stay silent for a few more minutes before an ANBU member appears in front of us.

"There's an attack on the East side!" The ANBU blurts out. "Shinobi from the Sand. We need all the men we can get!"

Sensei nods and turns around to face me. "Go home Kakashi, don't get involved in this."

"We need him too!" The ANBU shouts. "Are you crazy? Send the kid, he can take care of himself. He'll be fine!"

The ANBU performs a few seals and disappears. Sensei sighs and nods at me; telling me that yes, in fact, I should go to the front lines too. We both perform the same series of seals and disappear at the same time, only to reappear at different ends of the East side of Konoha.

I see immediately that Konoha is far outnumbered and that the Sand have planned this attack for quite awhile. In barely a minute I've killed at least fifteen Sand Shinobis who had moved to attack me. Father's Chakra Blade glows a soft white in my hand as I use it, somewhat awkwardly, to defeat the enemies that have now surrounded me.

It's impossible to break free of the circle of enemies and find another Konoha Shinobi to team up with and fight back to back. Every person I kill is just replaced by another. And their blood splatters on my clothes and Father's blade – and it causes my grip to slip. I fear that soon I might get Father's Chakra Blade knocked from my hands. And then I might just be a little screwed.

Somehow I either managed to work myself to the other end of the battlefield or Sensei work his way to my end because know I can see him in the crowd. He's holding his own but there's a lot of people attacking him – he is, after all, the Hokage.

I can see Jiraiya too, but he looks tired and worn and come to think of it the Sannin just got back from his own month-long mission earlier today – he shouldn't be out here fighting.

And then I catch sight of Obito and Rin and my heart skips a beat. They shouldn't be out here at all; they'll get themselves killed. They're too inexperienced and too slow and they don't have a fighting chance. But I don't think Sensei's noticed that they're out here because he hasn't made any effort to fight his way to their side.

So I bite my lip and put more effort into my attacks. After a few slow minutes I manage to hack a way through to where Obito and Rin are; they're just barely holding off the enemy. At least they're fighting back to back – a good choice of theirs.

A moment later I manage to break through the enemies that encircle me and the ones that encircle Obito and Rin. And I did it not a minute too soon as I find myself blocking a blow that would've easily behead Rin.

"Kakashi!" Obito's surprised voice exclaims.

"You two shouldn't be here," I mutter, "You'll get yourselves killed."

"Shut-up," Obito growls out, "We're fine."

"No you're not… I'm saving your asses… that means you're not fine."

"Stop fighting each other and fight the enemies!" Rin yells at us.

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from retorting and instead I focus on fighting. I easily dispose of ten more enemies within minutes.

I catch sight of Jiraiya, who's not that far away from where I am and who's on a lower ground level that I am, and I see that he's been overwhelmed by enemies. A lump forms in my throat but I turn away so that I don't have to watch if Jiraiya gets injured or not. I don't think I could bare to see such a thing in the middle of my own battle.

I find myself protecting Obito and Rin, who have both managed to get themselves injured and are struggling to keep fighting. I can't tell if their injuries are serious enough to be life-threatening but I hope not.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Jiraiya again and I find myself frozen to the spot. I watch in horror as a sword breaks the Sannin's tired guard and pierces through the left side of his chest. In truth, Jiraiya's too far away for me to see if the sword pierced chest, shoulder, or heart – but I've come to expect the worst in this world.

"Kakashi!"

Obito's warning doesn't come soon enough and in my shocked stupor I don't notice the enemy that approaches behind me until it's far, far too late. I feel the blade as it pierces me from behind and I look down to see the point of the katana poking out from in-between my ribs.

I hear Rin's strangled gasp and I can just imagine the shocked look that her face holds.

I watch as Jiraiya happens to look in my direction. I can't make out his face from where I am – he's too far away.

"Arashi!" Jiraiya calls out, and his voice sounds fuzzy and hollow to me.

I don't know what transpired between the Sannin and the Hokage but I can faintly hear Sensei call out my name.

Whoever it is who's holding the katana in my body pulls it out with a sickening sucking sound. I feel my warm blood soak my clothes and my Father's blade slips from my limp grasp to clang loudly against the rocky ground.

I can feel the air around me moving, telling me that whoever it is who's behind me has just swung their sword – aiming for my neck to finally end my life.

I hear the distinct sound of katana striking kunai behind me and I manage to turn around enough to see Sensei standing protectively in front of me; kunai blocking the enemy's bloody sword from beheading me.

I blink, trying desperately to clear my blurry vision but it doesn't help. I place my hand on top of the gaping hole in-between my ribs in an attempt to stop the bleeding but I don't think it really helps. I'm so weak from all the blood I've already lost that I don't even have the strength to place any real pressure against the wound.

The last thing I see before unconsciousness takes me is Sensei's kunai slitting the throat of the Sand shinobi who has pretty much killed me.

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Arashi is shocked to hear Jiraiya's voice call his name – he thought the Sannin was at the other end of the battlefield. Regardless, the Yondaime manages to twist himself around to catch sight of Jiraiya.

"Kakashi!" The Sannin yells, pointing to his left – Arashi's right.

In seconds the Hokage has spotted Kakashi and is making his to his student's side. He pushes the image of the katana through Kakashi's body out of his mind because he knows he can't think about that until later – now it will only distract him.

Arashi watches as the Sand shinobi pulls the katana out of his student's body and the Hokage cringes at the disgusting sucking sound it makes. Arashi makes it to Kakashi just as the Sand shinobi begins his final strike meant to kill.

But the Sand shinobi never knows whom exactly it was who interferes because the Hokage is just too fast – blocking the katana with a kunai and cutting the enemy's throat within seconds.

The Yondaime hears the thud of body hitting ground and he spins around to find Kakashi laying, unconscious, on the ground – blood pooling around him.

"Kakashi!" Rin calls out as she starts running to her teammates side.

Arashi turns to face the voice of his female student and has to react quickly; grabbing Rin and shoving her to the ground to avoid the Shinobi's attack.

He doesn't know quite how it happened or why he even managed to let it happen but somehow, someway, Arashi ended up getting separated from Kakashi's side and lost track of the injured child. By the time the battle ends the Yondaime fears that it's too late to save Kakashi's life.

And when the fighting stops and Konoha manages to come out on the winning side Arashi's mind is only on returning to Kakashi's side.

But Kakashi's not there. The pool of blood and Sakumo's Chakra Blade are there, right where Arashi had last saw them, but Kakashi himself is not there.

"Jiraiya!" Arashi calls out, unable to suppress the panic in his voice.

A few tense moments pass by before Jiraiya manages to make his way to his former student's side; holding a dirty cloth tightly against his injured shoulder to try and stop the bleeding.

"He's gone," the Hokage simply states.

Jiraiya looks down at the blood and the Chakra Blade and recognizes immediately what Arashi is talking about. "Are you sure it was here?"

"He fell unconscious almost immediately after… it was here that he last lay and it's here that he should be, dead or alive." Arashi's voice is strained with grief and panic.

Jiraiya sighs. "They took him. Whether alive or dead I do not know but it seems that some Sand Shinobis fled and took him with them."

"They wouldn't have taken him if he was already dead." Arashi allows a small hint of hope to enter his voice. "So that must means that he was alive."

The Sannin shakes his head sadly. "You saw the wound just as I did… it would be amazing if he lived through that."

"He's lived through…"

"I'm just saying that you shouldn't get your hopes up," Jiraiya interrupts. "Besides, nothing can be done until this is sorted out. We'll send out a rescue team later."

"If there's any Shinobis left for a rescue team," Arashi sadly adds.

"If it comes to that then I will go myself."

Arashi nods his thanks and picks up Sakumo's Chakra Blade. Slowly he wipes the blade on his stained pants to get rid of the blood. He can't help wondering whether the blood is that of the Sand Shinobis or if it's Kakashi's own blood.

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Jiraiya knocks softly on the Hokage's office door. "Arashi?" he whispers softly.

"Go away." Was the response he got and the Sannin frowns.

"I'm coming in." Slowly Jiraiya opens the door and enters the darken room. He quietly closes the door behind him and stands in silence for a few moments. "Arashi?" he questions again.

"I'm fine," the Yondaime states – his voice choked and dry.

Jiraiya sighs and walks over to stand beside his former student; who's standing stock still looking out the window. The Sannin notices Sakumo's Chakra Blade clutched tightly in Arashi's hand and he reaches out. Quietly and slowly he takes it from Arashi's grasp and places it on the desk behind them.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Arashi whispers.

"I don't know but I intend to find out," Jiraiya replies.

"It's my fault."

"Was it not who you was adamant about making sure everyone knew that nothing involving Kakashi was anyone's specific fault?"

"But this was. I should've sent him home instead of letting him join the fight. I was about to but in the end I let him come."

"He would've come anyways… you know that. Besides, if it wasn't for him both Obito and Rin would've died – they definitely shouldn't have been there."

"But I should've tried harder to stay by his side during the fight, and especially after he was injured. If I had just stayed nearer to him instead of letting myself get pushed away then I could've made sure he wasn't taken. I don't know why I didn't, I could've… I should've been able to. It's not like it's –"

"You're rambling," Jiraiya interrupts. "And I know how much you hate rambling."

"Sorry." The Hokage falls into silence.

Jiraiya sighs heavily. "Don't beat yourself up over this. It happened, you couldn't prevent it, now you just have to focus on trying to fix it."

"How can you fix something like this? He's dead! You can't bring people back from the dead!" Arashi's voice is choked with desperate attempts to hide his tears,

"You don't know that for a fact." Jiraiya feels slightly helpless in this situation; he's never been particularly good at comforting people.

"That was a fatal injury… without immediate medical care he'd die and –"

"He might've got immediate medical care," Jiraiya interjects, "Kakashi's known in the other Hidden Villages, more than most Shinobi's realize, and the Sand have to know that Kakashi's a very good bargaining piece. For a ten year old he knows a lot more about the secrets of this village than Shinobi's twice his age and he's an amazingly capable fighter. If anyone could survive this then he would be the one."

"You can't survive an ordeal if you're already dead."

"I never knew you were such a pessimistic. What happened to the optimistic Arashi I used to know?"

"Being Hokage during wartime changes you. I've seen more than I ever wished to see."

"Stop pitying yourself and start making some decisions!" Jiraiya knows he's snapping because of exhaustion, frustration, and emotional strain. "What are you going to do about this? Are you going to send out a rescue team or not? Are you going to try and fix this or are you just going to give up? Because if you give up and Kakashi is really alive then that's a way bigger mistake then what happened today!"

"I shouldn't have put him on my Genin team… he can't handle being on a Genin team," Arashi mutters, "I don't think he can handle having to 'share' me. He's too attached to me. You know, I probably shouldn't have a Genin team anyways. If I wasn't out training them then I would've been paying more attention to everything else and I might've figured out the Sand's attack plan earlier. In truth, I've been too distracted with Kakashi for a while now. Everything I've done has been focused on him. Maybe if he is dead it wouldn't be such a bad thing… you know…"

"Are you drunk?" Jiraiya suddenly asks – Arashi's ramblings putting him on alert.

"No!" Arashi responds, angry and upset at being accused of such a thing.

"Breathe on me."

"What?" The Hokage turns to the Sannin in confusion. "I'm not drunk!"

"Then breathe on me," Jiraiya states, but it's more of an order.

"I'm not drunk!" Arashi continues to defend himself. "I'm Hokage for God's sake! I'm not drunk!"

"You're rambling and you can't make decisions… that only happens when you're drunk," Jiraiya explains the reason behind is accusation. "Breathe on me."

"I'm not drunk!" Arashi's voice is so close to tears now that Jiraiya is all but certain that his former student is actually drunk.

"Breathe on me."

Arashi falls silent and leans against the wall beside the window. "Fine," he chokes out, "I'm drunk. Happy now?"

Jiraiya lets out a tired sigh. "Not really."

"I can't do this Sensei." Arashi doesn't call Jiraiya 'sensei' unless he's really stressed and freaked out. "I can't deal with being Hokage."

Jiraiya doesn't know what to say so instead he settles on embracing his troubled former student in a hug. He can't help but smell the sake on Arashi's breathe and he dearly hopes that alcohol doesn't become the Yondaime's crutch – for if it does then there will only be trouble for everyone.

The Sannin ignores the fact that his shirt is becoming wetter by the moment from Arashi's tears. And he chalks all this up to the alcohol because it's easier for him to deal with seeing Arashi in such emotional pain when he can pretend it's being caused by something else. Something easy to deal with like alcohol – not something like the possible death of a treasured student.

"Look… I'll go find Kakashi and bring him back. Dead or alive he needs to be brought back," Jiraiya offers.

"Okay," Arashi manages to choke out.

And Jiraiya lets his former student cry into his shoulder because he'd much rather Arashi cry in front of him then drink behind his back. And the Sannin really wishes he won't have to watch his former student become an alcoholic – he's sure that would break the remaining thread of emotional sanity he has left.

Jiraiya really hates wars.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**2**__**nd**__** Author's Notes:**__ No school way more writing. This chapter is like over 10,000 words or something ridiculous like that. Amazing, nh? Pain in the ass to proof-read though…_

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

_**2**__**nd**__** HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE:**__ Character torture… you've been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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It doesn't take long for Jiraiya to pick up Kakashi's scent. The child had spilt much blood during his capture which the Sannin is somewhat thankful for – it makes his job easier but it also means Kakashi's chance of survival is smaller than originally believed.

However, Jiraiya is acutely aware of the fact that the enemy has just over a days head start and he knows eventually the scent trail will run dry. At that time he will have to employ his detective skills to track down the Sand Shinobis who've taken the child.

He knows every passing second is a second closer to Kakashi's death – if he is even still alive.

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The first thing I notice is the fact that I'm covered in cold sweat. The second thing is that I'm tied down to metal bed. The third thing is that I think I'm drugged because everything seems fuzzy and hazy and I can't seem to really focus.

Wait… shouldn't I be dead?

I frown as I force my eyes to open – but it doesn't really help. The room is pitch black but yet I can feel another person's presence; I can actually feel three other people's presence. Please tell me this isn't death… because if it is than it's a little different than what I expected.

A face appears in my line of sight. "So you're finally awake," the person drawls out. I recognize him from the battler earlier; he's one of the Sand.

I open my mouth to speak but I find that my voice doesn't feel like working. I try to move my arms but they won't move… neither will my legs.

Why the fuck can't I move?

The man smiles at me and I think my panic might be showing on my face. "Don't worry," he says, "The drugs we gave you to keep you controllable are why you're paralyzed. As soon as we stop the drugs you'll be fine again."

I highly doubt they're going to stop the drugs anytime soon. And I realize, with horror, that as long as they keep me drugged I can't do anything. They have complete control over me.

He smiles at me. "You still haven't quiet healed yet. We'll let you sleep a little more. Trust me, enjoy it well you can."

I feel the prick of a needle in my shoulder and a few moments later the limited sight I have in this dark room goes blurry. My eyes close and seconds later I fall into the blissful escape of sleep.

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The wetness wakes me up instantly. The cold water splashed against my face causes me to open my eyes to see just what is going on.

I find myself in a small room with the Shinobi from earlier standing in front of me… an empty pail in his hand. I've been dragged here and forced to kneel – my arms bound tightly behind me and my ankles shackled together.

"You're healed," he states, "Now we can have some fun with you." He tosses the pail to the side of the room; it clangs against the wall, the noise is grating against my ears. I watch as he nods to the two people who I've just noticed are standing behind me.

They grab me underneath my shoulders and yank me up to a standing position. My legs wobble as I struggle to stay standing – my muscles are weak and unused to having to bear my weight.

The man in front of me walks forward so that he's inches from my face. "This is called Strappado," he whispers, "Do you know what that is?"

I shake my head to answer 'no' for I don't trust my voice to speak right now.

His smile grows. "Then this is going to be fun."

One of the men behind me ties a rope to my already bound wrists. I twist my head to look behind me and see that the rope they've tied to my wrists passes through a hook in the ceiling. A ball of panic begins to develop in the pit of my stomach and I gulp; I think I might know what they're planning to do.

I try to struggle but the drugs that are still coursing through my system leave my movements slow and awkward. The man in front of me laughs and I turn my head to face him again.

"You can't escape in your condition. Struggling is useless."

I watch in horror as he nods to the men behind me and a split second later I feel them pull down on the other end of the rope. Suddenly I'm jerked up and my feet leave the ground. My full weight being held up by my arms; the arms tied behind my back.

I let out a small whimper as I feel the joints grinding – twisting back in a way that I'm pretty sure they're not designed to.

For the first time in my life I thank God that I'm only ten and that I don't weigh a whole lot. I can only imagine how much worse this would be if I was any heavier.

I stay silent, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out, as the men slowly pull the rope – raising me up to the very height of the ceiling.

"You know," the Sand shinobi states from below, "For most people this torture is enough to get them screaming. But you're so tiny and light that it doesn't have quite the effect I'd like it too so I'm going to have to add another aspect to it."

I furrow my brow in confusion. What else could be done?

My eyes widen in horror as the I feel the rope slacking and suddenly I'm sent falling to the floor. The seconds seem to pass by in minutes as I approach the ground.

A scream is ripped from my throat as I'm brought to an instant stop just above the floor. The sudden jerk tears at my shoulders and I can hear the tendons and nerves ripping with the force. I'm left panting and gasping for breath.

The man approaches me. "I know who you are," he murmurs, "You're Hatake Kakashi… the son of the White Fang." He pauses. "Sakumo killed my wife, did you know that?"

I shake my head, unable to speak through my desperate gasps for air.

"And now I've learnt that Sakumo is dead." He chuckles sadly. "Now how am I suppose to get my revenge?"

I stay silent, my eyes narrowed in anger and disgust at this man.

"How?" his voice rises with anger. "How!"

Silence stretches throughout the room; broken only by my heavy breathing. Does it truly want me to answer? I don't know but I doubt I could even if I wanted to.

He smiles again and nods at the men holding the rope.

"No…" I unintentionally whisper as I watch the floor get smaller and smaller as I'm raised back up to the ceiling.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the rope is once again let go and I'm sent plummeting back down to the ground. I hear myself scream again as fiery pain shoots up my arms. The audible pop of dislocation reaches my ears as I feel my right shoulder tear from it's socket.

I can't do this. I can't survive through whatever this twisted, fucked up man has planned for me. This is only the beginning and already he's managed to break me. What other tortures does he have in store? What other pain will I have to endure?

"Soon," he whispers – but I don't bother to open my eyes to see him, "we won't need to drug you to keep you in control. The pain itself will render you helpless and immobile."

I feel myself being pulled back up and I desperately try to get my panic and pain under control. But it's useless. Each fall and sudden, jerked stop tears a pain-filled scream from my sore throat. Drop, after drop, after drop rips tendons and nerves. Causes unbearable pain to shoot up my arms. Somewhere along the way, in one of the many falls, my left shoulder is also dislocated. My full weight can't be kept held up by my broken shoulders anymore.

"Is that all you can take?" the Shinobi teases me as I gasp for breath after the last torturous fall. "I thought you'd be able to handle more… being Sakumo's son and all."

I open my eyes to send an evil glare his way. What more can I do? I'm helpless in this position. Completely and entirely helpless. And even if they were to untie me and let me go right now there'd be little that I could do in such pain.

He laughs and nods to the men again. Another serious of falls and sudden stops causes my screams to come in ragged, short gasps. Tears fall unwillingly from my eyes as I swear my arms are going to be torn completely from my body if this continues for much longer.

Finally they let go of the rope completely; sending me crashing to my knees as my arms fall, limply, behind my back. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and focus on just trying to level my breathing. I can't focus on the pain, I can't focus on what's just happened. It's just too much for me to process at once.

The man laughs as I feel the shackles around my ankles being removed. The ropes binding my wrists are cut and my arms fall uselessly to my sides. I listen to their footsteps as the three of them leave the room, locking the door behind them.

After a long time, I have no idea exactly how long, I manage to get my breathing under control and the pain slowly starts to subside. I crack open my eyes to find the only light that comes into the room is from the tiny crack underneath the door – leaving the room in near darkness.

I slowly stand up, forcing my exhausted body to make it's way to the nearest wall. I know what I must do even though the pain could be enough to send me spiraling into unconsciousness.

I drop to my knees and with great effort I manage to move my injured, weak right arm so that my hand rests on the joint between wall and ceiling. I take a deep, shuddering breath and force all my weight against the arm. A straggled gasp escapes my mouth and stars dance across my vision as I hear my shoulder pop back into place.

I rest my head against the cold wall for a couple minutes; calming my racing heart and letting the pain subdue a little before attempting my left arm. A while later I lean back and use my now slightly more useful right arm to place my left hand on the joint between wall and ceiling. The same straggled gasp is ripped from my throat as my full body weight is placed on the injured shoulder.

But it doesn't pop back into place. Instead my elbow buckles underneath the weight and I fall forward, catching myself with my right hand against the wall. Why didn't it work? Is my shoulder too injured to be fixed? Or did I simply not do it fast enough?

I should try again but right now all I really want to do is just let myself fall into the unconsciousness that is teasing me.

I sigh and slowly place my burning left arm in the same position as before. I take one last deep breath before I push all my body weight onto the arm.

I find that I don't even have the strength to scream, or even gasp, anymore. But I do hear the blissful sound of a shoulder popping back into place.

A couple shuddering breaths later I finally let the unconsciousness take me.

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I awake to rough hands pulling me up. The motion sends jolts of pain through my still injured shoulders and causes me to gasp slightly. The man throws me against a wall and binds my wrists and ankles to shackles bolted into the cement.

"At least have the decency to tell me your name," I mutter; my voice hoarse from little use besides screaming.

The Shinobi walks in front of me and chuckles. "It's Kanaye."

I lift my head to look at him. The door to the room has been left open so enough light has entered that I can actually see more than just shadows.

The man, Kanaye, stands at just over six feet and looks to be in his late-twenties. His blonde hair is tied in a low ponytail and his eyes are of a dark blue colour. He has a scar running across his face, from his left temple to the bottom of his chin. His nose is crooked and has probably been broken many times before.

His body is lean and long, with little muscle definition. He looks like a person who eats very little. His hands are gnarled and scarred and the tip of his left index finger is missing; cut off somehow.

But for all his looks it's his eyes that hold my attention. Deep, dark blue that hold the crazed-look of a man out for revenge. Whatever sanity he once had is long gone and I can tell his been waiting to get his vengeance for far too many years. Is this what revenge does to a person? Causes them to become a twisted ghost of their former selves? Causes them to hurt the innocent to calm their broken hearts? Whatever it does it's enough to disgust me and I dearly hope that if I live through this I will never fall into the despair-filled grasp of revenge.

He smiles that twisted smile of his. "This is called Water Cure. Want to know why?"

I make no response and his smile fades. "Fine then… I won't tell you. Maybe you'll be able to figure it out yourself."

He snaps his fingers and the two men that were his accomplices from last time enter the room; carrying buckets of something. One hands Kanaye a funnel and he takes it, tossing it lightly between his hands.

"This is traditionally just done with water," he explains to me as he shoves the funnel into my mouth. "But I find it's more interesting when done with other substances. Things such as oil, and tar, even animal waste. I even have a desire to try it with decomposed human body. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

I gulp as I try to move my head to get rid of the funnel but one of the two other men grabs my chin and keeps me still.

I watch as Kanaye moves to one of the buckets and fills a rather large cup up with just plain water; thankfully.

The first couple cupfuls that he pours down the funnel I swallow easily as the water cools my parched throat. I haven't had anything to drink or eat in some time and the water is refreshing. But the fourth cup is harder to swallow – and each one after becomes more and more forced. I can feel each gulp of water trying desperately to make it's way back up my throat. My stomach is filled and I can feel it beginning to distend.

Who knew drinking water could be so painful?

He laughs when he notices how I struggle to keep the water down.

"You know what's fun about this torture?" He asks as he pulls the funnel from my mouth and the accomplice lets go of my chin. I shake my head in response. "Once the person throws up you can start all over again."

I gasp as his fist makes contact with my stomach. He calls over one of the other men and he hands Kanaye a long, metal pole.

A few swift swings at my stomach and I can no longer keep the water down. A few minutes later I'm gasping for breath as my shirt is now soaked with the water and bile previous in my stomach.

Kanaye shoves the funnel back in my mouth and the other man takes hold of my chin again. The liquid this time isn't water but rather something much thicker – something incredibly harder to swallow.

"It's tar," Kanaye says, "Just in case you're wondering."

Each cup is poured down the funnel one after the other. I can hardly keep up and I start to panic. If I don't swallow fast enough I know I will drown without actually being succumbed in water. Drowning by not drinking tar fast enough – wouldn't father be proud?

My stomach gurgles as it refuses the thick tar. I soon find myself hunched over, as much as one can be when shackled to a wall, throwing-up the black substance.

Kanaye chuckles as he wipes his hands clean on his pants. Somehow the funnel has ended up on the ground and he picks it up.

"Stomach can't handle it, nh?" he teases.

I watch, with shuddering breaths, as he drags over a large bucket with hot boiling liquid that stinks – stinks a lot.

"This," he looks up and smiles, "is the Grande Finale. I boiled this substance so it should be pleasantly warm in your throat." He fills the cup up and shoves the funnel back in my throat; that man grabs hold of my chin again to keep me still.

"This is a combination of urine, manure, and decomposed human body… it should be quite delicious. I hope you enjoy it."

I desperately try to turn my head to get away but the hand that holds my chin keeps me still.

I gag as soon as the first drop touches my tongue. The thick, boiling liquid burns as it fills my mouth and I can't breath. I know I have to swallow it but I just can't bring myself too. Not this, not this boiled liquid of body and waste.

Stars start to appear in my vision as I desperately try to breathe with my mouth full. Kanaye pours another cup in my mouth and I try to shake my head to get at least somewhat free but it's useless.

One accidental deep breath causes a mouthful of the liquid to get sucked into my lungs and I immediately start coughing to get it out but Kanaye refuses to remove the funnel.

Two hours later, with stars still swimming in my vision, the bucket full of boiling liquid has all either been swallow into my stomach or inhaled into my lungs. The liquid burned my throat raw and I feel like my stomach's going to explode. My whole insides ache with the distention they are forced to endure to accommodate the litres upon litres of liquid forced into them.

Kanaye removes the funnel and the other man lets go of my chin. I let my head fall forward limply as the panic of not being able to breath slowly dissipates. The taste, however, refuses to leave my mouth and I'm acutely aware of the fact that I just swallow decomposed human body – as in, other people… flesh, muscle… it's now sitting in my stomach along with animal urine and manure.

I fall to my knees as my shackles are removed. I notice that my whole body is shaking as I still can't seem to get a good, deep breath. My shoulders ache from being kept in the same position for so long; the injured tendons and nerves from the Strappado torture I had to endure before dully ache in the background of my mind.

Kanaye kneels down in front of me. "How was that?" he whispers as he lifts my chin gently with his hand. "Did you enjoy it?"

I look at that damned smile on his face; that twisted, sadistic smile. He enjoys this. He enjoys every single fucking moment.

"Go to hell bastard," I manage to choke out.

His smile just grows even more and the next thing I know I'm curled into the fetal position in a futile attempt to protect myself from the kicks aimed for my stomach.

But I can't. And soon I find myself retching as the contents of my stomach are forced out. Eventually their beating stops and they leave me; locking the door and plunging me back into darkness. But I can't stop the retching and soon the floor around me, along with myself, is covered with the bile and disgusting liquid that was in my stomach.

It takes over an hour before the retching stops and another two hours for the dry-heaving to completely end. But I still can't get a proper breath and I know that's because some of the liquid is still trapped in my lungs and I probably won't be able to ever get it all out.

I curl up into a ball, not even bothering to move out of the pool of bile, and let exhaustion overcome me. Within minutes the relaxing safety of unconsciousness steals me from this living hell.

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Jiraiya can't help but panic. It's been weeks and so far he still hasn't been able to figure out where Kakashi is. Once the blood trail had gone cold he had managed to find a couple of leads but nothing solid and nothing that had ever really helped.

He's putting all of his years of training and experience to use but the Sannin is beginning to doubt that he'll ever find the young child. And that's causing him to panic because he knows just how undeserving Kakashi is of this fate and just how painful the child's death would be to Arashi.

So Jiraiya trudges on but the emotional strain is making him exhausted and tired. He knows that if he's ever attacked in his current condition he would probably have a hard time escaping unscathed. His mind is far too distracted with thoughts of just where Kakashi may be or what he may be enduring. Or worse yet, if the child is even alive.

It's at times like these that Jiraiya finds himself cursing Sakumo's mistake – even though he hates himself for it. It's also at these times that Jiraiya finds himself wishing that the White Fang was still around because he always seemed to know just what to do. And since Kakashi is Sakumo's son the old friend would probably have an even better idea of what to do.

But Sakumo is no longer here and Jiraiya has to struggle on without his friend. And the fact that every passing day without finding Kakashi is another failure to his lost friend has not escaped Jiraiya's notice.

So the Sannin struggles on hoping against hope that he hasn't yet failed the task of saving Kakashi. Hoping that he won't have to return to Konoha empty-handed and see the look on Arashi's face. And hoping that somehow he'll manage to save Kakashi; if not for himself or for Arashi than for Sakumo – for his old friend.

For the one he is really starting to miss.

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I awoke long before they ever came back to inflict whatever torture they had planned. I managed to crawl over to one of the walls so that I would have something to lean against. But the pain in my shoulders is growing with every passing moments and my left hand is now constantly tingling. I'm beginning to fear that there's been permanent damage to the tendons and nerves – especially the nerves – in my shoulders.

I don't know how long it's been. The drugs, the pain, and the seclusion in this dark room has completely fucked up my internal clock and made it impossible to determine the date or even a rough estimate of the time I've been trapped here.

I hug my knees to my chest and let my head fall forward. My stomach is painfully contracted and my throat burns. I wonder if anyone is even trying to find me? They saw the injury I sustained back in the original fight in Konoha – perhaps they already think I'm dead.

Maybe no one's even looking for me. They're probably not. I'm probably going to be just stuck here until I die or Kanaye gets bored and lets me go – and I highly doubt he'll ever let me go.

I let the tears fall because I really don't have the strength to try and hide them. And I can taste the salt on my lips from them but it doesn't bother me because I don't care anymore. Why should I care if they see me cry? Look what they've done already… there's nothing that I can do to keep my dignity now.

And I can't help feeling like Konoha's abandoned me.

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Arashi wishes he could've gone after Kakashi. He just about did but Jiraiya convinced him to stay. After all, he is Hokage, he needs to stay. Konoha needs him and Jiraiya assured his former student that he can take care of finding Kakashi.

But it's been weeks and Jiraiya hasn't returned. Arashi's started to lose hope… and not just for Kakashi's safe return but also for Konoha's future. He doesn't think Konoha's going to make it through this war – not at this rate.

And Arashi hates feeling hopeless but he can't help it. And he also hates that he's turning more and more to alcohol to ease his pain. He knows that isn't good or right or correct but he doesn't really give a damn anymore.

He laughs at the fact that he's Hokage; look how he's failed. Sometimes he thinks that maybe it would've been better if they had chosen someone else to become the Yondaime.

He wishes Jiraiya was here to tell him what to do. The Sannin would know what to do; the Sannin always knows what to do.

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I have to close my eyes when they open the door because the light is burning to my vision.

In an instant they have me sprawled on the floor; one person holding my wrists down and another holding my ankles.

Kanaye's voice reaches my ears: "You probably won't eat on your own if we give you food so we've decided to just force feed you. Easier for us and life-saving for you."

I don't even bother to struggle because I know it's useless – I don't have the energy nor the strength to fight them off.

The feeding pipe is thick, thicker than my nostril. At first Kanaye can't get it to go in as I instinctively struggle against the pain. But he keeps pushing the tube down my nose and eventually the cartilage cracks and blood comes streaming out of my nose… I can taste it in my mouth. It hurts enough to force tears out of my eyes and tear a straggled scream from my throat. But the scream is cut short as the tube is shoved down my throat.

I start to panic as the tube makes it way down my throat; causing me to become incapable of breathing either in or out. I keep gasping for air but I get nothing and my lungs burn as if they themselves are on fire. Eventually the pipe reaches my stomach and I can finally breathe properly again – at least I can if I take small, shallow breaths.

I close my eyes as Kanaye pours cup after cup of some gross looking slop, that I guess is suppose to be food, through a funnel into the pipe. They keep me held down for about another hour… I guess to make sure that the 'food' gets absorbed and I won't accidentally vomit it back up.

They then remove the tube with no care for any pain they cause me. They rip it out as fast as they can and I can feel it tear the back of my throat as it comes out. I gag a couple times and Kanaye puts his hand over my mouth to make sure I don't throw-up. Once satisfied that I will be fine he nods to the two men and they let go of me.

Slowly I sit up as the two accomplices exit the room; leaving Kanaye and I alone.

"Now that was annoying," Kanaye mutters as he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me up to a standing position.

Before I even realize what is happening Kanaye is behind me… left arm pushes me hard, face first, against the nearest cement wall and his right hand is tightly grasped around my right wrist. My right wrist which he is currently being pushed up to my neck.

He's breaking my arm. I can feel the tendons and muscles straining to keep the bones together.

Eight minutes. For eight of some of the most painful minutes of my life he drags the process out. Every now and then increasing the pressure just slightly, just enough to cause another jolt of unbearable pain up my arm and into my already injured shoulder. The pain becomes too much and I start to whimper; letting the tears fall shamefully down my face.

With a very audible crack my wrist reaches the back of my neck and my right humerus is broken into three distinctively different pieces. A final push into the wall ends the torment and he lets go of my broken, useless arm. I listen to his footsteps as he leaves without a word; locking the door behind him and once again plunging the room into darkness.

I turn around so that my back is now resting against the wall; my left hand clutching on my now broken arm for dear life. I slide down the wall until I'm sitting. The fiery pain doesn't dull and I can't stop the tears from streaking down my face.

"Aren't you proud of me now daddy?" I bitterly mutter to the silent air.

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They come again some time later. I don't know how long later but I do know that I didn't sleep. The pain in my broken arm wouldn't let me sleep.

Kanaye binds my wrists and drags me out of the room; making sure to grab me by my broken arm. I cry out many times as I stumble and fall; my legs unable to carry my weight. But Kanaye doesn't care and he just pulls me up by my broken arm – causing me to cry out even more. The pain causes black spots to dance in my vision and makes me unbalanced and uncoordinated.

We reach a door and one of the two accomplices opens it for Kanaye. He drags me through it and I have to squint against the harsh, bright light of the sun. The fresh air burns my lungs and leaves me gasping for breath.

"They think you're the reason the Sand's attack in Konoha failed," Kanaye whispers into my ear as he drags me along a wooden platform. "They hate you because they think you single-handily caused the deaths of hundreds of Sand Shinobis."

I look around to find myself on a platform high above a crowd of thousands of Sand civilians… and hundreds of Sand shinobis. The long pole in the center of this wooden platform catches my eye. What is it that he's planning to do?

We reach the pole and Kanaye kicks the back of my knees, causing me to fall down. He unbinds my wrists and then roughly places my hands on a small piece of wood nailed perpendicular to the long pole; the rough handling causes me to hiss in pain. He binds my wrists together on the opposite side of the pole to where my body is.

A lump of panic and fear starts to form in the pit of my stomach as I realize what's about to happen. This is the position often used to tie prisoners up so that they can be lashed.

And I realize that I'm tied up in such a way that my right side is facing the public crowd so they can not only watch the whip against my back but so they can also see the reaction of my face. This is a public lashing… a torture for everyone to see.

I watch in silent horror as one of Kanaye's accomplices hands him a long, black whip. He slowly walks around to stand behind me.

I bit my lip and take a deep breath as soon as I hear the whip cut through the air. A moment later it cuts across my back and I hiss in suppressed pain. The crowd cheers and I try desperately to block out the sound. Who are these monsters? What people would so willingly endorse the torture of a ten year old child? But then again, they have been told that I'm the reason hundreds of their Shinobis died.

But still. Who is Kanaye to think he has the right to do this? Who is he to feel the need to torture me simple because I'm Sakumo's son?

The next whip catches me off guard and I cry out unintentionally… much to the joy of the crowd. I bite my lip and resolve to make as little noise as possible.

It goes on for what seems like hours. Whip after whip. Cutting across already torn skin. My ripped shirts rubs painfully against the lashes for quite some time until it eventually is shredded to such a point that it simply falls off.

I stopped counting the lashes after I reached a fifty. And it seems like it's been ages since then. My vision spins from loss of blood and the jeering crowd has become nothing more than a ringing in my ears. I faintly notice that I now cry out with every strike of the whip.

Eventually the torture stops, my wrists are untied, and I am dragged to my feet. The sudden change in position causes me to waver and the world around goes black.

I don't fight the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.

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Day after day they drag me out there. I eventually figure out that it's one hundred and fifty lashes each time before Kanaye will stop. Each time I swear that the crowd that watches is bigger than the last one.

It's been too long for any hope of rescue. I've been abandoned, forgotten, left to suffer through this day after day. The lashes don't even have time to heal before I'm thrust out into the public eye again to be once again tortured. The pain is unbearable and I can't help but scream with each painful cut across my back.

Often Kanaye will angle the whip in such a way that it wraps around the side of my body and cuts my chest before being drawn back. Every breath hurts. Every touch causes searing pain to course through my body.

And my arm is still broken. And each time I'm taken out here Kanaye makes sure to grab a hold of the broken bones.

I really wish I would just die already.

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Jiraiya's horrified to hear, from one of his many sources, of a child being flogged in the public eye in the Sand Village.

He becomes even more horrified when he learns that the child is from Konoha; and that the child is silver-haired and only a mere ten years old.

Jiraiya's no idiot. He knows the child is Kakashi. And that makes him sick to his stomach because he can only imagine what the kid's been through. After all, it's been over a month know and the floggings have only been going on for about a week – at least, as far as the Sannin knows.

It doesn't take long for Jiraiya to discover that the man in charge of Kakashi's 'care' in the Sand Village is Kanaye. And it doesn't take long for the anger to build up inside of him.

Kanaye is going to pay.

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I'm surprised when Kanaye comes in with his two accomplices and they don't take me out to be flogged again.

However, I realize quickly that they're here for another force-feeding. And wonder if it really does any good. But I don't bother to fight back and I just let them shove the tube down my nose, and I let them force the slop into my stomach. Because maybe, just maybe, if I go along without a fight they'll just leave me alone and let me be for a little while. That's all I ask for. Just a little while; a couple days without any torture, without any pain to tear screams from my throat and choke my breath.

But I know that that's too much to ask for. When the force-feeding is done the two accomplices leave and suddenly I'm struck with uncontrollable fear. What will Kanaye do this time? Will he break my other arm? Their rough treatment has so far prevented my right arm from healing at all… in fact, it's probably just broken it further.

I watch as he tosses a kunai back and forth between his hands… smiling that fucking smile of his.

"You know," he whispers as he walks closer to me. "I've always wondered about you."

He grabs me tightly around my right arm, causing me to cry out in pain, and drags me to standing position. In seconds he has my wrists and ankles bound to the shackles bolted into the wall.

"I've heard that you're quite the kid," he murmurs into my ear as he lightly draws the kunai down my chest. "Doing S-rank and A-rank missions… killing without hesitation… and just the fact that you've survived this is amazing."

I gulp as I see that all familiar gleam in his eyes that I always saw in Uncle Moro's eyes and Leia's eyes.

The kunai pops open the button on my pants and I squeeze my eyes shut. My breaths come in fast, shallow gasps as I try desperately to suppress the panic and fear inside of me.

Why does it always end with this?

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The darkness does nothing to help me forget Kanaye's touch against my skin… nor his breath in my ear, or the smell of his hair, or the taste of his lips.

I curl up in the fetal position on the dirty blood-stained and vomit-stained floor of this cursed room. Why can't I just fucking die? Haven't I lost enough blood to die? Haven't I been through enough to be let free? I just want this to end. I just want it to be over.

And it hurts so much more simply because I know that I've been forgotten and abandoned by everyone in Konoha that I thought cared for me.

They come again, the door unlocked and opened, but once again they don't take me out to get flogged. No… they have something else this time. Something I haven't seen before.

Kanaye kneels down and grabs my arm. He, along with one of his accomplices, shackle my wrists and ankles to the wall.

"You know what this is?" He asks, showing me some sort of contraption that sort of looks like pincers but instead has a cylinder-like end that, when closed together, forms a long narrow tube.

"No," I whisper in response.

"They're called Crocodile Shears," he says with a wide grin on his voice. He opens them and I see that the inside of the blades are line with spikes. "They're used on people just like you."

He nods at his two accomplices and they leave, letting the door stay open to allow light into the room.

He leans in and whispers into my ear: "They're for little whores like you."

My heart starts racing as I realize exactly why the blades are tube shaped… why they're for 'whores' as Kanaye so nicely put it.

With the tool in his left hand Kanaye uses his right hand to pull down my pants and I try desperately to writhe free. But it's no use… it's never any use.

I scream. Unbearable pain courses through me as the Shears are clamped onto my exposed penis.

And I scream, and scream, and scream. And my breath hitches in my throat and tears stream down my face. I scream until the my throat is raw and no voice comes. Then I gasp for air and desperately bang my head against the wall to distract myself from the pain.

Eventually he removes the torture device and releases the shackles. I fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position – whimpering and crying. Kanaye kneels down and yanks my pants up. I cry out as the fabric touches the torn skin.

The blood flows freely, along with my salty tears. And I wonder, yet again, what did I ever do to deserve this? Being Sakumo's son isn't my fault… it doesn't mean I should receive this.

Eventually the blood loss sends me into unconsciousness.

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It doesn't take long for them to come back and once again I find myself woken up, dragged out to that fucking wooden platform, and tied to that damn pole.

But this time it's different because this time the whip isn't smooth like it should be. No, this time the whip has small pieces of… is that bone?... attached to it. I gulp as I realize that this going to hurt so much more than I think I can handle.

The whip cuts deep into my back and I can't help but scream as the small pieces of bone rip off chunks of flesh.

Whip after whip comes crashing down on my back. Cutting over unhealed lashes from the many times before and ripping more and more flesh away. The blood comes gushing out and pools around my knees.

The crowd cheers a little less than normal and maybe, just maybe, they have come to realize that this is just a little too extreme. Or maybe it's the tears that I can't stop and the raspy screams torn from my throat that makes them nervous. Or maybe it's just the copious amounts of blood that pours from my body that they can't stomach. Whatever it is I can sense that they don't seem to be quite as in to this form of flogging as the normal kind.

And maybe it's a delusion from the loss of blood but I swear that for a split second I saw Jiraiya in the crowd.

The next strike wraps around my chest and the bones on the whip catches on one of my rips. It gets stuck and Kanaye doesn't even bother to see why – instead he just pulls a little harder and eventually a loud cracking sound alerts me, and everyone near me, to the fact that my rib has just been broken and the whip pulls back – taking a large chunk of flesh and half the broken rib with it.

I scream; an unnerving, exhausted, wretched scream that hurts even my own ears. I start gasping for air as the pain from my broken rib and torn flesh rages through my mind. I dare a glance down to my left chest to see that enough of the skin and muscle has been torn away that I can see the sun glimmer off the whiteness of three of my ribs; one of those ribs being broken in half.

The next whip brings the relief of unconsciousness with it.

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Jiraiya stands in silent anger among the crowd. His chakra will only allow him to stay disguised for a short period of time but that's all he needs to confirm what he wished to never see.

It is Kakashi.

And he flinches with every strike of the cruel, bone-spiked whip that cuts the kid's skin. And he curses the Sand for being so unbelievably cruel.

The Sannin has to turn away when the whip catches Kakashi's rib. And the resounding crack of the broken bone and the following scream that is torn from Kakashi's throat makes Jiraiya shudder with despair and anger.

He wishes he could just save the kid now – kill Kanaye and flee. If his emotions had a say then that's what he would do. But Jiraiya knows how foolish such actions would be and he won't dare to fuck up this rescue mission. He won't risk getting Kakashi killed in a poorly planned and poorly executed rescue attempt.

No – he will save Kakashi and bring him back to Konoha. The kid deserves at least that much.

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I open my eyes to find myself in the same damned room I've been in for what seems like years now. And I find that my chest has been sloppily bandage but the blood has soaked the fabric right through.

With a hiss of pain I remove the bandages to find that the gaping hole on my ribcage where flesh should be is now infected and desperately trying to heal when I know that it won't be able to; especially here, with no proper medical care.

The door opens and in walks Kanaye. He grabs my right arm, I can't still the cry of pain, and yanks me up.

"Let me go," I growl.

He freezes and turns around. "Pardon?" he questions with a small chuckle.

"I've had enough." My voice is dry and hoarse. "Fucking enough."

He laughs and starts dragging me along behind him again. I take a deep breath and swing my left arm around – the still injured shoulder screaming in protest.

Fist meets jaw and he let's go of my arm; surprise and shock causing him to stumble back, clutching his jaw in pain.

"You… you…" he mutters. "How dare you!"

He moves to attack me but I dodge out of the way – adrenaline now coursing through my body. I know this is my last chance to ever escape and I have to at least try; even though I know that success is minimal.

Within moments I'm out of the room and running down the hall. Kanaye probably should've thought about breaking at least one of my legs at some point – if I had been him then that's what I would've done. It would've prevented escape attempts like this from ever happening.

But I know I won't get far anyways… the burst of energy my adrenaline gave me is already fading. And I can hear the footsteps of Kanaye and his two accomplices closing in on me.

I have no weapons to fight with either.

They surround me within minutes but I'm not about to give up. I manage to kick a kunai out of one of the accomplices hands and grab it. With speed I didn't even know I still possessed the same man's throat is soon slit, the blood spilling on the floor.

Kanaye and his remaining accomplice block my only escape path and I know there's no way I can beat the two in a fight. I have to somehow get around them.

I feign attacking Kanaye which drags the accomplice from his position. A quick dodge and a well place kicked at the accomplice's knees frees open my last ditch chance.

But my flight is halted almost as soon as it begins as one of Kanaye's kunais imbeds itself in my lower back. Gasping I fall to my knees.

I have to blink back the tears for I know that that was my last chance and I fucked it up. I won't be able to survive the next flogging. This was it. This was all I had left.

Kanaye rips the kunai out from my back and kicks me in the stomach. He kneels down and grabs me by the throat. Roughly he throws me against the wall and I collapse to the floor – too weak to even stay standing.

"You fucking bastard." His voice is tinged with anger and frustration. "Going off and killing one of my men… attempting to escape. I'll make sure you can never do that again!"

The remaining accomplices has now joined us again and Kanaye nods at him. His rough hands push my shoulders back against the wall; keeping me from any more attempts at escape.

Kanaye kneels down beside me and grabs my left thigh, just above the knee. He smiles at me and I bite my lip as I watch his hand carry the kunai deep into my knee. I unwillingly scream as the weapon shatters my knee cap and cuts through tendons and nerves.

I squeeze my eyes shut and gasp for breath as Kanaye releases my left thigh and stands up. I listen to his slow, sure steps as he slowly walks over to the other side of me.

I open my eyes to watch him as he kneels down and grabs a hold of my right thigh. I lean my head back to stare at the ceiling; I don't want to watch this time.

A scream forces its way from my throat as the kunai plunges deep into my right knee – breaking knee cap and destroying the tendons and nerves.

My breathe hitches in my throat and tears escape my closed eyes. My God, what did I ever do to deserve this?

Kanaye's hand grabs my right arm and I scream in pain – my body's too tired and too overwhelmed for me to have any control over myself anymore. But Kanaye doesn't care… he just drags me up. I fall to the floor as soon as I even attempt to put any weight on my now shattered knees.

"What?" he whispers into my ear, tightening his grip on my broken arm. "Are you too pathetic to even stand on your own anymore?"

"That's enough Kanaye."

I blink at the sound of the unfamiliar, and yet familiar, voice that reaches my ears. Slowly I lift my head and blink away the fuzziness from my vision.

I gasp. "Ji-san?"

Before I can even register what's happening Kanaye and his accomplice have been killed and their blood pours upon the floor.

Without Kanaye's hand on my arm to support me I have no strength to even stay in a kneeling position. But strong arms scoop me up before I even have the time to hit the ground.

"Ji-san?" I question again, no longer even having the strength to open my eyes. Is it really him? Has someone actually come to save me?

Was I really never abandoned?

"It's me," he whispers. "It's over now, don't worry. I'll take you back to Konoha."

"No," I mutter as I feel Jiraiya take off running.

"Don't worry Ka—"

"Just kill me," I interrupt, "Please… it hurts. Just… I want to die."

It's hard to hold back the sobs because I know it's too late… he was too late. I can't be saved. I'm too injured, I lost too much blood. And even if I make it back to Konoha I will never heal fully. I'll be crippled… I don't want to live as a cripple – I'd rather die instead.

I can feel Jiraiya's breath hitch in his chest. "Don't worry Kakashi. Just rest."

I sigh and close my eyes; resting my head against his chest. The position I'm in is putting a lot of pressure on my broken arm but I hardly even notice anymore. I'm just so relieved to be gone from that place.

It doesn't take long for unconsciousness to overcome me.

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Jiraiya didn't think it would be has hard as it was. Finding out what cell Kakashi was being kept in was the least of his problems. It took him forever to just sneak in and not get caught.

It took every single ounce of patience that the Sannin had not to just going running down the halls in plain sight looking for Kakashi. He dearly wanted to but he knew how foolish such actions would be.

So he had waited, and been patient, and sneaked with all the skill he could muster. Within time he realized that Kakashi was being held in the lowest cell. He found that out when the guards would gossip about the kid; commenting on how amazingly strong Kakashi is to have survived Kanaye's torture this long.

Jiraiya regrets that he came just a little too late for he realizes that had he been but a mere few minutes earlier he would've saved the sever damage to Kakashi's knees. And the Sannin would beat himself up over that for months, even years, to come.

But for now the Sannin is much more worried on escaping. Sneaking in seemed ridiculously easy compared to sneaking out; for it's hard to sneak out when you've just killed two Shinobis in probably not the most quietest way possible.

So Jiraiya flees for he doesn't dare to fight with Kakashi laying unconscious in his arms. And being that this is the Sand Village it is in the middle of a desert so there's few places to hide.

But thankfully it's near the edge of the desert. And once out of the prisoner dungeons Jiraiya stops for just a brief second to summon Gamabunta. The giant toad does his job of detaining the Sannin's pursuers long enough for Jiraiya to escape.

It wasn't until a day later did Jiraiya dare to stop… and only than it was because he had managed to find a small forest to find shelter in. Kakashi still had not awoken and Jiraiya feared that the he had indeed been too late. It couldn't bear to think of what would happen if Kakashi were to die during the trip home.

By the light of a small fire Jiraiya examines the child's injuries and realizes with a sharp intake of breath that Kakashi has little chance of ever fully recovering.

The kid's going to be a cripple.

The thought brings tears to the Sannin's eyes but he forces them back. They'll be enough time for tears later. Besides, not all hope is lost. If he could only find Tsunade – Tsunade would be able to completely heal the child.

He laughs at the thought. Find Tsunade? The women has been missing for far too long to ever really find. And he doubt he would ever be able to persuade her to come back to Konoha just for one, ten year old boy. Especially now with her hemophobia and emotional demons. No, Tsunade would probably be of no help.

And does that mean that Kakashi is now doomed? Will this child never fully recover?

The Sannin shakes his head to clear is thoughts and sets about doing what he can for the child. Bandaging his chest to try and stop the bleeding from his wound. He sets the child's broken arm and makes a makeshift splint out of a few sticks and some bandages.

However he can do nothing for Kakashi's destroyed knees and he notes, with sadness, that the child's shoulders have both been dislocated at least once. The bruising on the skin of Kakashi's shoulders tells Jiraiya that the kid was tortured in such a way to damage the tendons and blood-vessels of the shoulders; and possibly even the nerves.

A few hours later Jiraiya puts out the fire and scoops Kakashi into his arms – making sure to put as little pressure on the kid's shoulders and broken arm as possible. He fears that he may be pursued by Sand shinobis and he doesn't wish to be caught in a fight with Kakashi in the condition he is in.

Two uneventful days later, during which Jiraiya doesn't sleep and Kakashi never wakes up, the Sannin manages to stumble his way into Konoha. Exhausted, tired, and emotional drained Jiraiya is close to collapsing.

He sends one of the guards to inform the Hokage that he has returned with Kakashi, an alive Kakashi, and to meet him at the hospital.

With his last burst of energy Jiraiya runs as fast as he can to the hospital. Once there he bursts through the doors only to be met but his former student. Who's happy face falls as soon as he catches sight of Kakashi.

The medic-nins are there in seconds and before he even knows it Kakashi is taken from him, placed on a gurney, and wheeled away.

A nurse quickly explains to them both to wait in the Waiting Room and that a medic-nin will come and explain the kid's condition to them as soon as possible.

"What took you so long?" Arashi's voice is bitter and angry and Jiraiya is taken back for a split second.

"Don't take your anger out at me," the Sanin replies as he collapses into a chair; exhaustion finally catching up with him. "I don't want to deal with it."

The Yondaime sits down beside his former sensei. "To tell you the truth," he whispers after a few minutes of silence. "I had given up all hope for Kakashi."

"Good thing it wasn't you who went on the rescue mission then." And this time Jiraiya doesn't bother to hide the bitter anger in his voice. "For someone who acts like he cares so much for the kid you didn't hold much hope for his survival."

Arashi doesn't make a response and Jiraiya mutters something inaudible under his breath.

"You smell like sake," Jiraiya says after another moment of awkward silence.

"You smell like blood and sweat," the Hokage retorts, "We'll call it even."

Jiraiya sighs. "Look, Arashi, don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb!" Jiraiya's voice unintentionally rises with anger. "The drinking! You can't be Hokage if you're a fucking alcoholic!"

"A drink every now and then doesn't make me an alcoholic."

"It's more than every now and then… I'm not blind. It's been going on for months and months and I fear this incident has only made it worse. It can't be your crutch!"

"Shut-up," Arashi mutters. "Just fucking shut-up! Do you think I not know? I see… I see what I do. I have to look in the mirror each day at myself!"

"But you won't accept it, you deny it."

"I deny it to everyone else! What do you want me to do? Admit it? Tell the whole fucking village. 'Oh, by the way, I, your Hokage, am an alcoholic.' How well do you think that would go over?" Arashi's own voice is starting to rise with anger.

"Stop fighting."

Both Jiraiya and Arashi look up in surprise to see Sarutobi standing in front of them. "If you want to fight then fine, but fight somewhere more private – like an office – not the hospital Waiting Room!"

They both fall silent and an awkward silence falls over the three of them.

Jiraiya stands up and states, with unhidden anger in his voice: "The kid's going to be a cripple." He then turns around and leaves.

"What!" Arashi shouts as he too stands up. "How do you know that!"

The Sannin slowly turns around. "I've carried him back here for three days… I've seen his wounds. None but Tsunade could fix them fully. And if you want to go chasing after that kunoichi fool and beg her to come fix your precious student then go on ahead! But I'm done! I'm done with this! Done with dealing with Kakashi! And done with dealing with you! I can't take this… I just can't handle it anymore!"

Arashi stands there in shocked silence and watches as his former sensei turns around and leaves. "You're starting to become more and more like Tsunade each passing day," he mutters under his breath, "Losing hope and giving up – it's not like you."

Jiraiya stops and whispers, barely audible to Arashi: "Are you really any better?"

"You two are being fools," Sarutobi says. "You're letting the stress get to you. You're letting your emotions run your decisions."

Arashi turns on the former Hokage and opens his mouth to speak but Sarutobi cuts him off: "Don't even think of chalking it up to the pressures of being Hokage during war. I know such pressures and I've dealt with it. This is your own fault." Sarutobi sighs. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. You weren't ready to be Hokage and you still aren't."

"Shut-up you old fool," Jiraiya mutters before disappearing though the doors.

Arashi collapses back into his seat and buries his head into his hands. Sarutobi quietly sits down beside the young Hokage and squeezes his shoulder in comfort.

"What would Sakumo say if he saw us now?" Arashi whispers. "We've failed to protect his child and we've failed to even stay friends. What's left?"

"We can only prepare for the future. It is useless to try and fix the past. 'What ifs' will only torture us… and you know that. You've been taught that much." Sarutobi's attempts at comforting seem to fall on deaf ears.

"He hates. My own Sensei hates me."

The Sandaime sighs. "He doesn't hate you. He's exhausted, he's angry at himself, he said many things he didn't mean."

"No… he really does hate me."

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The hole in the locker wasn't really something Jiraiya had meant to do. It had just _happened_. And since it had just happened to happen he left it at that and thought nothing more of it. It had, after all, managed to disperse at least some of his anger.

It was a quick shower that followed and soon the Sannin was dressed and leaving the Jounin locker room.

Sometime later he finds himself standing before the grave of Hatake Sakumo and wondering just exactly why he came here.

_Oh yah, that brat of yours._

"Seems I didn't quite manage to keep that promise to you Sakumo," Jiraiya mutters to the cold air. "It took me too long to find that brat of yours and now I fear he'll never fully recover. You see…" The Sannin's voice starts to constrict with unshed tears and choked back sobs. "It seems he was tortured pretty badly… for over a month too… and he's only ten, as I'm sure you know. So who knows? Maybe this will cause him to want to quit all together. I've seen less tortured Shinobis quit. God, I hope so. Because I really don't want to have to tell him that he can't be a Shinobi anymore. I can just see the look on his face, your face really, because you two are so similar it hurts. And it makes me cringe to look at him sometimes because I swear I can see you. Sometimes I even think the brat's got as much experience and wisdom in those damn eyes of his as you."

Jiraiya realizes that he's rambling, and rambling to a gravestone of all things, but he can't seem to bring himself to stop.

"He's too young to be where he is in life. Too young to experience the things he's experienced. And I can only pray that we're not fucking up as much as I think we all are because I have no idea if this is what you want your son to be doing. Maybe we're all just completely failing and making fools of ourselves because I really don't see how we're helping the kid. Especially me… all I've done is pretty much fuck everything up. I couldn't even save him you know… at least… not soon enough to save him from becoming a cripple. And I know that Tsunade's the only one who can heal your brat completely but I have no idea where she is or if she'd even come to help."

The wind whistles by Jiraiya's ear and he swears he heard a whispered voice but he shakes it off as exhaustion and an overactive imagination.

"I really wish you were still here." And with that Jiraiya turns around and curses the moral part of his brain that's screaming at him.

Because tomorrow morning he knows that he'll be leaving to go find that fool Tsunade and beg her for one last favour before she disappears from the Shinobi world forever.

Fuck, sometimes Jiraiya really hates the moral, righteous part of his brain.

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_**Author's Note:**__ Just to say… if you are an author I highly suggest not writing in torture scenes as I have done. It has to single-handily be the hardest thing I have ever done. Mainly being the research of such torture methods is pretty much unbearable – to know that everything I wrote about in this story was actually done to real people in this world actually really disturbed and shakened me. I had a very hard time finishing this chapter and that's why the update came so quick… because I knew that if I stopped and took a break of more than an hour on this chapter that I would never be able to come back to it and finish it. The torture obviously adds to the Kakashi-angst that I tend to write but I don't know – somehow I think I might've gone just a little bit too overboard with this chapter. And if I have than I'm very, very sorry._

_**Also… this goes out to all my reviewers so far. Thank you SO VERY MUCH! Without you I would never, never be able to finish my stories.**_

_And I just have to give a special shout-out to _Tsukiyomi the Kami_ – who, without fail, has reviewed pretty much every one of my chapters within like half an hour of them being posted. It's kind of ridiculous really. But seriously… I love you. And your last review was GOLD! It even had constructive criticism, which I love! MORE CONTSRUCTIVE CRITICISM EVERYONE! And constructive criticism WITH JOKES! It's like... vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. The vanilla ice cream is good by itself but SO MUCH BETTER with chocolate sauce! Love you _Kami_… keep me smiling!_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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It's a rather silent and remorseful Jiraiya that enters the hospital Waiting Room. A good nights sleep and some actual food has refreshed the Sannin's mind and made him release that maybe he was a little too short tempered with Arashi yesterday.

It's to his shock that he notices Arashi still sitting in the same seat as the day before. Jiraiya sighs and sits down beside him – noticing that Sarutobi is no where to be found.

"Has there still been no word?" Jiraiya asks quietly.

"He's been in surgery for pretty much the whole night." Arashi lets out a heavy sigh. "They say there's some damage that they probably won't be able to fix."

Jiraiya nods. "About yesterday… I just want to say I'm sorry… I said some things that I shouldn't have said."

"You were right though."

Jiraiya raises an eyebrow in question but Arashi offers no explanation for his words.

"I'm going to go find Tsunade," Jiraiya states. "Might as well try and convince her to come heal the kid."

"She won't come."

"At least I bother to try… something you've apparently given up on doing."

The Yondaime stays silent and Jiraiya sighs, again. "The kid's going to live… is that not the main goal? Was saving his life not enough?"

"Saving his life was pointless if he really is crippled," Arashi mutters, "Kakashi will just end up killing himself if he can't be a shinobi… and you know that just as much as I."

"Or perhaps this experience has made him decide to no longer be a shinobi and therefore his injuries won't be so devastating."

Arashi sadly chuckles. "Nothing will turn Kakashi away from a shinobi's life."

Jiraiya opens his mouth to reply but an approaching medic-nin distracts him and he stands up… Arashi soon follows.

The medic-nin nods at them both and lets out a tired, heavy sigh. "Kakashi's condition is stabilized, he's been transferred to the ICU. However…" The medic-nin pauses to let the two shinobis prepare themselves for the news. "…Kakashi won't be able to continue to be a shinobi."

Jiraiya cringes at the news and watches Arashi as his face pales. The Sannin fears that his former student might actually faint.

"I've never seen such injuries in such a young child… actually – I've never seen such injuries in anyone. The nerves in both of his shoulders are injured beyond our ability to repair; especially his left shoulder. I doubt that he'll have any feeling in his left arm – and I don't know if he'll even be able to move that shoulder much. We repaired the tendons as much as we can but they've been severely damaged – luckily his right shoulder wasn't quite as severe."

"What else?" Jiraiya dares to ask.

"There was some sort of liquid in both of his lungs too… and it's been there for a long time. We managed to get it all out but it killed many of the lung's cells. He's lung capacity has been greatly reduced because of that – it may repair itself in time but I'm not sure."

Jiraiya squeezes Arashi's hand in silent support and so that he'll be more prepared to catch the Hokage should he indeed faint.

"I've never seen so many lashes on one person. He's skin will be severely scarred from them and many of them were infected. We have him on antibiotics now to try and control the infections but he's still running a high fever. Some of the lashes were really deep – we could see his ribs on his left ribcage and even parts of his spine were exposed. A lot of skin was torn off and it's going to take a lot of time for that to heal."

Jiraiya can feel Arashi shaking under his touch.

"The damage to his knees in irreversible. We can't fix it… Kakashi won't be able to walk."

Jiraiya can feel his own heart literally snapping in half. He knows that if he had only been five minutes faster he would've been able to save Kakashi from having his knees destroyed. The kid's inability to walk is completely Jiraiya's fault and he can't shake the heaviness of guilt that weighs on his mind because of that.

"Kakashi also lost a lot of blood. For a while there we didn't think we'd be able to save him from the blood loss but we managed. However, he now has more donated blood in his body than his own blood. And that's not good for anyone but especially for Kakashi, who's own heart isn't is. We don't know if his body will be able to handle having that much foreign blood in him, we'll just have to wait and see and monitor it."

"Please say that's all…" Arashi whispers, "Please."

The medic-nin shakes her head sadly. "There's also been severe damage to his digestive system. We don't know why. He's been starved and his malnourished but that wouldn't cause as severe damage as he has. I'd be very surprised if he can ever digest food properly again – he'll probably need to be fed through a feeding tube if he's too survive."

She sighs. "But that's not all of it. I fear Kakashi will never…" she pauses to take a deep breath. "…never be able to have children."

Arashi's mouth opens in shock and his hand instinctively comes up to cover it. "Oh God," he whispers.

"How?" Jiraiya questions; unsure if he really wants to know the answer to his question.

"We believe he was tortured with the device known as Crocodile Shears."

Arashi's face pales even more – something Jiraiya didn't even think was possible. They've both heard of Crocodile Shears before but have never actually known anyone who had been subject to it until now.

"There's also evidence of sodomy," the medic-nin adds as a final blow to the two shinobis' already shattering emotions.

Jiraiya squeezes Arashi's arm tightly to keep the Hokage from freaking out or passing out.

"That's all?" Jiraiya dares to ask.

The medic-nin nods. "We've drugged him to keep him asleep for now but if you wish to see him you can."

Jiraiya nods and fears what exactly Arashi's stunned silence could mean. But he can't read minds and he just doesn't know… and he doubts Arashi's going to be pouring out his feelings anytime soon.

They both follow the medic-nin in silence as they walk down the white-walled halls of the hospital. It seems to take hours before they reach their destination but in reality they both know that it only takes a couple minutes.

The steady beeping of monitoring machines reaches their ears as soon as the door is opened. The medic-nin closes the door softly behind the two; leaving them alone for whatever privacy they desire.

Jiraiya, already accustomed to the sight of the frail child from having to carry him back to Konoha, was not shocked when he entered the room.

Arashi, however, was. And the Hokage gasped slightly at the sight of the pale child. His face is hollow and far too thin, his eyes tightly closed, a feeding tube in his mouth and an oxygen tube in his nose. The sheets are only pulled up as far as his waist, probably in an attempt to keep the child's fever from worsening, and his chest is bandages all the way around – but some blood has already leaked it's way out of the stitches and stained the gauze. His bare shoulders are bruised and swollen; tell-tale signs of the torture endured.

"I can't do this," Arashi whispers, "Who's going to tell him?"

"I'll find Tsunade, she'll be able to help… she'll be able to fix this."

Arashi drops, exhausted, into the one lone chair of the room. And Jiraiya, unable to stay and watch his former student's heart shattering before him, quietly leaves to collect his thoughts and prepare for his upcoming journey.

But first he needs to stop at a certain former Hokage's office.

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"I don't think you realize the severity of this." Jiraiya's impatience and frustrating is growing with every word that he swears the Sandaime doesn't hear – or doesn't want to hear.

The still air of the Hokage's office is grating on Jiraiya's nerve. The fact that the Sandaime, the former Hokage, is sitting at the current Hokage's desk is a detail that has not passed Jiraiya's notice.

"Jiraiya… leave Arashi alone. He's an adult now, not your subordinate, he can take care of himself."

"He's a drunk!" Jiraiya doesn't bother to hide the anger in his voice. "And you can see it just as well as I can! You're in the same denial that he is!"

Sarutobi suddenly stands up. "Arashi is an adult. Let him deal with his demons alone… he will survive, he'll be fine."

"That's what you said about Sakumo! Look where that got us!"

"Sakumo was different."

"Why? Because he actually made a mistake? Arashi believes he's made a lot of mistakes… and believing you've made a mistake isn't really any different than actually making one. His demons aren't any less worse than the ones Sakumo had!"

"Jiraiya." The Sandaime lets out a tired, quite sigh. "Let Arashi be. If he chooses to deal with his pain through alcohol then that's his choice."

"Do you just not give a fuck?!" Jiraiya's fist slams against the near wall. "If there is anyone in this village who shouldn't be drinking it would be the Hokage! The Hokage who just happens to be Arashi!"

"He's an adult! He's pain can only be healed by himself!"

Jiraiya's voice drops to a mere whisper. "You're a fool. Just because someone is an adult doesn't mean you can now just turn the other way and not help him. He needs help! And I'm not going to be here to help him. I was hoping I could trust you to watch him but now I know I can't."

"This is a time of –"

"Don't tell me it's because of the fucking war!" Jiraiya interrupts. "I'm tired of you using the war as an excuse! It's why you didn't help Sakumo, because you didn't have time! Well you know what! Fucking make time! Because if you don't than you're going to have a lot of shinobis dieing because you failed to help them! People can't fight their demons alone… maybe _you_ can but ninety percent of the population out there can't! Arashi needs the help from his friends… and you're one of his friends. At least fucking try to help! Just try!"

Jiraiya slams the door behind him as he leaves. And maybe he feels just a little guilty for yelling at his old sensei but he swears the man's changed far too much in his old age.

Old age. Jiraiya laughs. Sarutobi's only in his fifties – not technically that old. But still… it seems to the Sannin that the years have caught up with the Sandaime's mind.

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The smell of antiseptic reaches my nose and slowly drags me out of the grip of unconsciousness.

The tube I feel scratching the back of my throat sends me into a blind, hyperventilating panic attack. I'd scream but the said tube prevents any loud voice from leaving my mouth. I jerk up into a sitting position, eyes wide open and terrified. Was I not actually freed? Was it all a dream? Did Kanaye not actually die?

Am I still in that fucking room? Am I being force-fed?

A worried voice teases me. Whispers my name. Barely heard above the thundering beating of my heart. _Kakashi?_ It questions… concerned and worried. _Kakashi? Kakashi? __**Kakashi!**_

My eyes take in the stark, white wall opposite where I am and the softness under my body tells me I'm on a bed. There was never a bed in that room, and it never smelt like antiseptic – which this room does.

Someone takes hold of my shaking hands. I shudder under the touch and if I had the strength I would pull away – but I don't. I'm too weak. Too weak to defend myself, too weak to escape, too weak to be worth anything.

My breathing calms – ever so slightly – as I come to the realization that I am indeed not there and am, in fact, in a hospital. And that the tube in my throat isn't the same one that Kanaye shoved down my nose.

"Kakashi?" the voice questions again; louder this time… resonating more in my conscious than before. "Kakashi?"

It's so familiar. So damn fucking familiar but I just can't place it. And my eyes aren't really seeing the room I'm in but rather the room I used to be in; that black room devoid of light… devoid of life.

"Please… Kakashi… can you hear me? Kakashi?"

I blink a couple times and slowly the hospital room comes more into focus.

"Arashi-sensei?" I question; cringing at the hoarse sound of my voice and the rough edge the tube shoved down my throat causes it to contain.

I hear him sigh in relief and a few seconds later I'm finally able to comprehend the environment around me. I look into his eyes – so full of concern and exhaustion. How long has he been here? How long has he been waiting for me to wake up?

I glance down to my hands, both held tightly in Sensei's grasp.

But there's no feeling in my left hand.

I wiggle my left fingers and Sensei looks down. Slowly he lets go of my hands and I wiggle my left fingers again. I see them wiggling. I know they're wiggling… every logical part of my brain is telling me that they're moving.

But I don't _feel_ them moving.

Slowly I lift my whole left arm… my shoulder screaming in protest as I realize that the tendons haven't quite healed completely.

"Kakashi…" Sensei whispers in concern.

My voice shakes ever-so-slightly: "I can't feel my left arm."

Sensei takes my left, shuddering, hand in both of his. His large hands swallow mine… bring my age to the forefront of my mind.

"I'm crippled, aren't I?" I mutter; knowing full well that I am.

"Kakashi…" I can hear Sensei's heart breaking in every word he says. "I'm sorry… I wasn't there… I didn't protect… didn't come to save you. I'm sorry… so very, very sorry."

His right hand touches lightly on the side of my unmasked face but I jerk back. The touch hurts… just the touch. And it's nothing physical; that I know for sure.

It's all in my mind.

Sensei looks hurt as he draws his hand back. But he doesn't question my reaction. He probably knows why, how could he not? He's seen my injuries… seen the stories they tell.

"Jiraiya's gone to look for Tsunade," Sensei whispers, "Hopefully she'll be able to help."

"She won't come."

"You don't know that."

I turn my head away to stare at the far wall. Looking at Sensei is too painful. His eyes are too full of sadness and despair, too full of guilt and worry, for me to stand looking at.

A quiet squeaking noise causes me to start slightly and Sensei stands up to address the intruder.

"I'm sorry," a nurse apologies as she enters. "But the Sandaime has sent me to tell you this: The Kazekage from Sunagakure is here. He wishes to speak to you about the incident with Jiraiya and the three Sand shinobi guards."

"The Sand?" I cringe at how unintentionally scared my voice becomes.

"Don't worry Kakashi." Sensei smiles warmly at me. "I'll take care of it."

I watch as Sensei follows the nurse out of the room. The door softly clicks shut and I can't help but feel panicky as I'm left alone… in a room… a small, tiny, enclosed room.

I hate how frantic my mind has become.

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"I want to see the child!" the Kazekage exclaims in anger as he paces back and forth in the Hokage's office.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," Arashi replies calmly from his seat behind his desk. "Hatake Kakashi has just woken up from his ordeal and is still quite fragile."

"There was no ordeal!"

"In all respect Kazekage, there is evidence to suggest otherwise."

"I refuse to believe that Kanaye tortured anyone. He was instructed to keep the child as a Considered Prisoner of War – you know the rights that come with that label." The Kazekage stops his pacing to look directly at Yondaime. "Considered Prisoners are treated with respect and are not harmed until a trial is conducted. And when Sunagakure and Konoha signed that truce two weeks ago Kanaye was ordered to release the child, which he did! There was never any public floggings. And there was certainly never any torture!"

"Kakashi would beg to differ."

"The child was not harmed… there was no need for Jiraiya – a Konoha shinobi – to infiltrate our country and kill three of my men! Kanaye included! Kakashi was already released by then."

"I'm afraid to inform you of this but it seems that Kanaye was acting against your orders." Arashi stands up. "Kakashi was still a prisoner when he was rescued. Jiraiya's actions were necessary to save the child's life. I can show you the medical report if you wish."

"Medical reports can be forged."

"Then I don't know what else can be done… I cannot allow you to see Kakashi."

"Then Sunagakure revokes its truce!" The Kazekage leans forward on Arashi's desk… the two Kages faces are mere inches apart. "And the next army we send after your sorry asses will be Konoha's downfall. Are you really willing to risk this Village's survival on one child's mental stability?"

Arashi softly sighs. "Very well… if you truly cannot believe my word then I will take you to see Kakashi. But please… be considerate of him."

The Kazekage nods and Arashi can't believe that he's actually allowing this.

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"Kakashi," the nurse whispers gently, "Do you think you could sit up for me?"

I blink away the sleepiness from my eyes. Did I fall asleep again? Didn't Sensei just leave?

"Kakashi?"

"I'm awake," I mutter.

"Good." She smiles down at me. "Now, I need to change your bandages… so, do you think you could sit on the edge of the bed for me?"

I nod and slowly push myself up. My back is sore and painful and my shoulders scream against the weight of my body. I push the sheets back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

"So my knees still work," I bitterly whisper to myself, "They're just too weak to hold my weight."

The nurse reappears from wherever she went – probably to get that bowl of water she's holding. She sets the bowl down on the nigh-table beside my bed and moves the tray of gauze, needles, and thread onto the bed.

"Are you okay with me touching you?" she asks. "Because I can give you a sedative if you'd prefer."

I shake my head. "I'm fine."

She looks skeptic but nods anyways. Her first touch causes me to jerk back and she freezes.

"Are you sure you don't want a sedative?" she asks again.

"I'm fine," I repeat; squeezing my eyes shut and taking a deep, shuddering breath to calm myself down.

She's just a nurse. She's just changing the bandages. There's no harm being done. There's nothing to freak out about.

I manage to suppress my next reaction to her cold hands to just a mere shudder and nothing more. Slowly she peels the bandages off – I hiss in pain where the cloth has stuck to stitches and dried blood. The minutes creep by but eventually the bandages are completely removed.

It's only then do I dare to open my eyes again. By now she's moved the night-table closer to us and is dipping a cloth into the lukewarm water. A shiver passes through my spine as the wet cloth touches my sore and torn skin.

I quickly twist around at the sound of the door opening.

"Don't move so quickly!" The nurse sounds annoyed. "You'll rip your stitches."

"Sensei?" I question as Arashi walks into the room.

I twist back around as soon as I realize that there's another person behind him. I reach for my mask, which is sitting on the night-table, but I don't get far. Searing pain shoots up my right arm from the sudden movement and I gasp – grabbing hold of my arm in an attempt to dull the pain with pressure.

"Kakashi!" The nurse sighs. "Let me see."

Slowly I release my grasp on the injured arm and the nurse gently runs her hands over it.

"You haven't re-broken it so that's good," she mutters with a pointed glare sent in the direction of Sensei. "But try not to move it too fast, okay?"

I nod as the pain slowly starts to subdue.

The nurse stands up and walks, quite angrily, over to Arashi. "What do you think you're doing? Bringing someone here! This kid is not an exhibit for you to bring people here to gawk at!"

"It's fine," I whisper; cutting through her rant. "If Sensei brought someone here than it's for a reason. Let them stay."

The nurse sighs. "I'll come back later to finish the bandaging, okay Kakashi?"

"Fine."

I listen to the footsteps of the nurse as she leaves and the clicking of the door as it shuts behind her.

"You're the Kazekage, aren't you?" I ask; keeping my gaze on the floor.

"Yes," he softly replies.

Sensei walks over to stand in front of me while the Kazekage stays behind. "I'd prefer if you stood where I could see you," I whisper – knowing that the Kazekage will understand that am talking to him.

And he does understand because I see his feet as he moves to stand beside Yondaime.

I raise my head to look at the Kazekage. "Why are you here?"

"I was under the belief that your Hokage was lying about your condition in order to explain why Jiraiya had killed three Sand shinobis."

"He killed two," I state, "I killed one."

The Kazekage nods and turns to address Arashi. "If you would allow, I would like to see the medical report now."

The Hokage nods and starts to leave.

"Please," I whisper, "If you have any questions ask them now."

The Kazekage shakes his head.

"Are you an idiot?" a voice screams as someone comes running into the room; stopping at the foot of my bed.

Since I'm sitting on the edge of the bed I have to slightly turn my body to see the rude intruder.

"Nozomi?" I question… unsure why she's here… and why is she yelling?

She pays no head to the visible lash marks that cover my back and chest but instead continues on her rant: "First you completely ignore me! Then you go off and get yourself captured! And then when you get rescued you don't even bother to send word to me that you're back!"

"Am I suppose to?" I wonder out loud.

"Yes!" She looks incredibly pissed off now. "I don't enjoy finding out about your mission results from the other shinobis! I'd rather you tell me!"

"Nozomi," Sensei quietly interrupts, "You should go."

"I'm not go anywhere, _Yondaime._" She says his name with bitter anger. "And where were you when he was a prisoner! You're his Sensei… you're suppose to go and save him! You're suppose to be the hero! You are the Hokage, aren't you?"

"Nozomi," I snap. "This is not his fault. And show the Hokage more respect then that."

She glares at me then moves to the chair where she plops herself down and refuses to leave.

Sensei sighs and scratches the back of his head. "We should probably go," he says to the Kazekage – who nods in reply. They both quietly leave.

Soon after the nurse returns and finishes cleaning and bandaging the stitched up lash wounds. Some of the stitches had ripped or frayed and needed to be redone. She offers me drugs to allow me to sleep without any nightmares. I take them but place them on the nightstand.

I'm not using drugs to help me sleep unless I absolutely need to. I refuse to believe that I'm that weak… at least, not yet.

"You're an idiot," Nozomi mutters after the nurse has left.

"I believe you've already told me that."

She's changed her position. No longer is she sitting in the lone visitor's chair but now she's sitting on the windowsill, staring out onto the busy streets of the Village. I myself have also changed positions… now I'm sitting up in the bed, the sheets up to my waist and my back resting on a pillow against the wall.

"I thought you were dead."

I laugh. She turns quizzical eyes to me. "Do you really think I would die that easily?" I explain.

"You're not invincible… everyone else thinks you are but I know you're not. You've never been."

"I really don't feel like doing this."

"Doing what?" Her voice is barely audible.

"This." I let a little bit of bitterness enter my voice. "This analysis of myself. I'm only ten, _you're _only ten… leave the emotional healing to the doctors."

"I'm eleven," she corrects. I shrug in response; does it really matter that much?

"I'm a Genin now."

"What?" My voice unintentionally rises with surprise and slight disbelief. "Since when have you been a shinobi?"

"For a while now… I joined the Academy when I was nine and graduated a few months ago."

"I didn't even know… but why? Why would you do that?" I don't understand why someone would choose this life when they see there results of it all around them.

"Everyone…" She sighs. "…everyone's getting hurt, everyone's dieing. All my friends are shinobis. I felt useless not being one. And Konoha needs more shinobis anyway. Apparently I have a lot of natural talent."

"You're an idiot!" I snap at her. "Why would you choose this? Look at me! This is what a shinobi's life brings… why would you want this?"

"You're different," she replies. "Have you not noticed? Your life is the abnormal one in the group. Which isn't that surprising with the skill you have. You must be the youngest shinobi doing A-rank missions."

We both fall into silence and before long my weariness catches up with me.

"You should leave," I mutter.

"I'm staying."

"I'd rather you leave."

"No."

"Leave!" My voice is tinged with anger and exhaustion. "Please," I continue in a softer voice, "Just leave."

She accepts defeat and slowly lowers herself off the windowsill. I watch as she quietly leaves and shuts the door behind her.

I ignore my exhaustion and instead push the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Fuck the nurses, fuck the facts. I refuse to believe that I'm a cripple until I actually try to walk. I refuse to give up on protecting Konoha until I see for myself that I've failed. I take a deep breath and slowly inch myself down off the bed. My feet make contact with the floor but I still can't dare to put my full body weight on my knees. Will they support my weight? Or is what I'm about to do just going to injure them more?

I take a couple more deep breaths and I slowly start to transfer my body weight from my arms – and my screaming shoulders – to my legs.

A strangled gasp escapes my mouth as the sound of tearing tendons reaches my ears. I collapse into a heap on the cold, tile floor and curl up into the fetal position. The pain in my knees is unbearable – shooting like fire up my legs and into my hips, even up my spine.

The monitoring machines beep widely in alarm; desperately trying to tell someone that the patient they're hooked too needs help.

The tears fall freely from my eyes. I can't determine whether the tears are from the pain or from the bitter realization that I am, indeed, a cripple and that I will never be able to be a shinobi again.

The sound of feet hitting the floor resonates in my body but I ignore it as the beating of my heart starts to speed up. But why? What did I do to cause my heart to beat rapidly? The new pain in my chest is competing with the pain in my knees.

God, it hurts.

A voice reaches my ears: "His heart's beating at 132!"

"He's going to go into congestive heart failure!"

Someone touches my shoulder but I jerk away. "Don't touch me," I hiss out.

"Don't pussy foot around the kid, get him in the bed!"

Someone, I don't know if it's the same person, touches me again – and again I jerk away. I fold into myself even more. "Go away," I mutter.

"He burnt me!"

An alarm in the back of my mind goes off. Didn't this happen before? When I was younger… wasn't I accidentally burning people when I couldn't control my chakra?

"What do you mean he burnt you?"

I can no longer identify the different voices… they all sound the same to me.

"I touched him and he burnt me! His chakra burnt me!"

"You useless nurse!"

Another person touches me… another hand that I jerk away from. The pain in my chest is starting to diminish.

"His heart beat is returning to normal."

"What? How is that possible?"

"Don't know, but that's what the machine says. His heart is fine… it must've been an anxiety attack, or something like that."

"Go away," I mutter again.

"Someone go get the Hokage… now!"

The room goes quiet – the monitoring machines returning to their normal steady beeping – and the nurses frantic actions slow down as the immediate danger passes.

"Why doesn't someone just pick him up?"

"Are you an idiot! His chakra is burning everyone he touches! He needs Yondaime here to calm him down. He won't die so just let him be… he's been through enough already."

"What is he doing out of bed anyways?"

"Probably trying to see if he can walk."

"But isn't he…"

"…yah, he's crippled."

"Shut-up you two! He can still hear you!"

A familiar, yet slightly panicked, voice joins the crowd of people; Sensei's voice: "What's wrong?"

"He's here," one of the nurses replies.

I can sense someone kneeling down beside me.

"Kakashi?" Sensei whispers. "Hey… can you hear me?"

"Leave me alone," I mutter.

He touches my shoulder and I violently jerk away. "Don't touch me," I whimper; memories unwillingly flooding back into my mind. I shudder and fold even more into myself.

"Can't we just sedate him?" someone asks.

"I'd rather not… he needs to learn to trust again," another nurse, I think the head nurse, answers.

"Kakashi, do you realize you just burnt me?" Sensei asks.

"I don't care… seal up my chakra if you want… I can't be a shinobi anyways so it doesn't matter." I don't bother to hide the anger in my voice.

"Please, will you at least look at me?"

"No! Just leave me alone!"

"I can't do that."

"Why? I'm useless now! Just let me die!" Sobs start choking my voice and I can't stop the tears from falling – tears that I know aren't from the physical pain.

I can hear the sadness in Sensei's voice: "Kakashi…"

I try to speak but the hiccupping sobs choke all the words out of my mouth and I give up.

Sensei tentatively touches my shoulder and I shudder, but don't pull away. He then slowly wraps is arms around me in a hug and doesn't let go. I sink into the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

Eventually I let my exhaustion take me and I fall asleep.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Fade to Black**

_**Summary: **Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi._

_**Genre: **Drama/Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Naruto._

_**Author's Notes: **__I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion._

_I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes._

_**2**__**nd**__** Author's Notes:**__ Over 100 reviews! That's amazing! Thank you all so very, very much for reviewing this story and liking it as much as you do and for giving me the desire to keep on writing. Thank you!_

_And on that note… here is the next chapter that I, myself, am not quite happy with but I just can't seem to figure out why or fix it. So oh well, if anyone has any suggestions to make it better then tell me in a PM or a review – besides that, enjoy as best as you can!_

_**HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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"I need your help."

Tsunade stops in her tracks; standing partially in the building and partially out, the door pushed part-way open. "How did you find me?"

"I followed the rumours of the _Densetsu no Kamo_," Jiraiya replies calmly, "That's quite the reputation you've developed in such a short time."

"Bar," she states and Jiraiya nods. He falls into step behind the medic-nin, and her apprentice Shizune, and follows them to whatever bar Tsunade decides to go – he's unfamiliar with this small town but trusts his former teammate to find a suitable place to speak in.

The bar they enter is small and busy, but not so busy that a person couldn't have a normal conversation in. The noise level is at just the right level that you can easily hear the one you're talking to but are unable to eavesdrop on others conversations. Jiraiya knows that Tsunade picked this bar for that reason alone.

She sits down at a booth; Shizune takes the seat beside her, and Jiraiya takes the seat opposite to her. The places isn't overly comfortable or overly uncomfortable – in fact, it's no where special at all. The lights are dim and the drinks are tasty enough.

"What do you want?" she asks; twirling her drink on the table.

"I need your help."

She sighs. "With what?"

"I need you to come heal—"

"No," she interrupts, "I gave that up."

"You ran away." Jiraiya's voice gets slightly louder with anger.

"I'm not healing anyone."

Jiraiya lets out a heavy sigh. "Just examine him. That's all I ask. See if there is anything that can be done. And if there is then maybe Shizune could do the surgeries… or something. Just examine him, that's all."

"What happened to him?" she asks. "Why do I have to come look at him?"

"He was tortured… the medic-nins in Konoha can't heal him. He's currently crippled."

"Crippled?"

"Both his knees have been shattered, he can't walk." Jiraiya takes a sip of his drink.

"Who is he?"

"Does it matter?" Jiraiya raises an eyebrow in question.

"Yes." Tsunade looks annoyed. "You wouldn't come looking for me unless you knew the person, or felt guilty."

"It's Kakashi."

It's now Tsunade's turn to raise her eyebrow. "As in Hatake Kakashi? Sakumo's son? He'd be about ten now, wouldn't he?" she asks. Jiraiya nods. "Then this is because of that stupid promise you made to Sakumo, isn't it?" she whispers. "You feel guilty that you couldn't protect the kid."

"That's not it," Jiraiya defends himself; knowing that Tsunade is completely right.

"Don't lie to me!" Tsunade's voice rises, quite a bit, in anger. "I'm not an idiot! I was your teammate for years! I know when you're lying!"

"Maybe I do!" Jiraiya yells back; slamming his drink on the table. "But not because of that promise!"

"Then why? What did you do?"

Jiraiya takes a deep breath to calm himself down. "Five minutes," he mutters, "If I had been five minutes earlier he wouldn't be crippled – injured, yes, but not crippled."

Tsunade lets a little bit of sadness enter her voice. "His injuries aren't your fault, you should know that."

"Then will you help?"

"No."

"Why!" Jiraiya stands up in anger. "Why!"

"Because I can't do it," she mutters in anger, "And you know that!"

"Is this because of your hemophobia!" Jiraiya realizes that his voice is getting far too loud for this bar and that other people are starting to listen in. "Just examine him! Get Shizune to do the surgeries if you need to! You've abandoned Konoha, this is the least you can do!"

"I didn't abandon Konoha!" Tsunade now stands up in her own anger.

"Keep telling yourself that!" Disgust at Tsunade's denial creeps into Jiraiya's voice. "Keep being in denial! It seems to be the 'in' thing to do now-a-days anyways!"

"What is that suppose to mean?"

Jiraiya shakes his head. "Never mind."

Tsunade sighs. "We're going Shizune." The apprentice quickly scoots herself out of the booth and Tsunade follows.

"So that's it!" Jiraiya yells after her. "You're just going to leave! You're the kid's only hope!"

"This isn't about the kid!" Tsunade turns around to face her former teammate again. "This is about you trying to resolve your own guilt! I'm not your savior! Fix your problems yourself!"

"I can't fix it because I'm not a medic-nin! You're the only one you can help him!"

Tsunade walks up to Jiraiya, standing mere inches away from him. She has to tilt her head back to look into the eyes of the man for he is quite a bit taller than her.

"That kid is not my responsibility," she mutters then swiftly turns around.

Jiraiya grabs her wrist, stopping her movement. "But healing the injured is."

She freezes and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Don't let Kakashi die just because you're afraid of failure," Jiraiya continues, "Don't let the kid die just because you haven't quite been able to forget Nawaki and Dan yet."

"Don't," she whisper, "Don't go there…"

"I won't… just please, take a look at him, that's all."

Tsunade briefly closes her eyes; desperately trying to hold back the tears that the mention of Naraki and Dan's names brings. "Fine," she whispers.

Jiraiya's not fooled by the hidden tears and barely-shaking voice; he slowly turns his former teammate around and embraces her.

"You'll do fine," he mutters into her hair.

"Shut-up, you can't predict the future," he snaps back; her voice choked by her tears and muffled by Jiraiya's chest.

Jiraiya smiles into her blonde hair. "I think I hear Sakumo sighing in relief."

"I think I hear you going crazy, talking to ghosts and all."

Jiraiya doesn't quite know what to say or do now and he thinks Tsunade feels the same way by the nervous chuckle they both share as they untangle themselves from each other.

"Time to go save the kid now, nh?" Tsunade mutters.

"Yah, he might go do something silly – like try to walk."

"Yah, he has Sakumo's stubborn personality, doesn't he?"

"Yup… you should see how much he's grown now though. He's going to be one tall adult."

Tsunade chuckles. "Like Sakumo, nh?"

"Yup, always like Sakumo."

"Always."

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"You're an idiot."

Arashi hisses in pain as the medic-nin rubs cream into the burn that covers his chest.

"He needed to be comforted. He was scared and panicked," Arashi explains to Sandaime.

"He couldn't control his chakra… holding him burnt you." Sarutobi sighs. "You're an idiot."

"He calmed down."

"That's great." Sarutobi's voice is rising in frustration. "And you're lucky he didn't kill you. That kid has a lot of chakra in that tiny body of his that he apparently still can't control when he's upset… who knows what could've happened!"

"No one got hurt." Arashi bites his lip to distract himself from the pain as the medic-nin starts to wrap gauze and bandages around his chest.

"That's not the point!" Sarutobi rubs his temples to try and relieve the headache starting to form. "You could've died for a ten-year old cripple! That's the point!"

"So just because he's crippled we shouldn't bother to help him anymore!" Yondaime's voice is now rising in his own anger. "Just because he's useless to Konoha's shinobi's ranks doesn't mean we can just abandon him!"

Sarutobi sighs. "Look… I know you mean well. But Konoha is in danger of falling and if you don't refocus where you're spending your attention and time it's going to spell disaster for this Village."

"Just… just don't, okay? I know. I know the position Konoha's in… I know what I'm doing. So just leave it be."

"Leave it be? Leaving it be could cause us all to die!"

Arashi stands up in anger; effectively pissing off the medic-nin. "Do you think I don't know that!"

"Arashi! Sit down!" The medic-nin orders and the Hokage sighs; but he does sit back down on the edge of the bed.

The Sandaime shakes his head sadly. "You don't get it."

"Just shut-up," Arashi mutters, "I get it… I get it all perfectly clearly. I'm not an idiot, I'm not stupid. I've made mistakes but I'm not going to condemn Konoha to failure. So just leave me the fuck alone."

Sarutobi whispers something inaudible under his breath and quietly leaves. Arashi sighs and lets his body sink further into the cushion of the bed as he waits for the medic-nin to finish bandaging the burn on his body.

He has no idea what he's going to do; concerning both Kakashi and Konoha.

He feels like a failure.

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I curl up in on myself. The warmth that the blanket offers does little to stave off the chilling cold inside of me – inside of my heart.

I can't walk.

I'm a cripple… broken and useless. There's nothing more I can offer Konoha, nothing more I can do to help keep this Village alive. I've failed. Failed at rebuilding the Hatake name… failed at proving myself… failed at living up to father's expectations. Failed at everything I've ever done.

And now I lay here under the covers of a hospital bed, curled up in the fetal position and crying. Tasting the salt of my tears on my lips and listening to the slow, steady beat of the heart in my chest that isn't even mine.

Pathetic. Fucking pathetic. Ten-years old and a cripple. Useless. Pathetic and useless and too young to do anything about it but too old to change my path in life. It's a shinobi's life or it's no life at all.

And I can't have a shinobi's life so I guess it's no life at all. There's nothing else I can. Nothing else that I'm any good at.

"Kakashi?"

I open my eyes to see a stream of light passing through a small crack in my tiny little fortress of blankets and pillows. I blink a couple times as my eyes adjust to the light.

In the crack there peeks a sliver of Nozomi's face.

"Go away," I mutter as I squeeze my eyes shut again.

I shiver as the blanket is swiftly pulled away and I'm left bared to the outside world. "I told you to go away."

"You're an idiot," she murmurs. I feel her weight shift the bed as she sits down.

"You've told me that multiple times already."

"I'm not leaving you… because if I do I know you'll go an do something stupid – like kill yourself."

I chuckle. "Who says that's stupid? My father did it… maybe I'm just destined to follow his path."

She sighs. "You're ten… there's no way you know your destiny yet."

"You're annoying."

"I'm annoying because I'm right and you don't like that. Stop being so cold-hearted… stop retreating in to yourself. You have friends and they care for you. Asuma's been begging to see you but his father won't allow it. How can you even think of taking your life when you have so many people that care for you?"

"I'm useless. I can't even walk… there's nothing I can do to help anyone anymore."

She takes my hand in her own; hers is warm and comforting while mine is cold and frail. She leans close to me and whispers, her mouth centimeters away from my ear: "You lose hope to quickly. There's rumours that Jiraiya himself has gone off to drag Tsunade back here to take a look at you. Jiraiya!" She leans back, I can see the smile that graces her face in my mind, and continues, "You're one lucky kid to have two of the Sannins even take the time of day to speak to you... and then you have Yondaime himself as your sensei!"

I open my eyes to look into her brown ones. Her hair is tied back in a loose ponytail but many strands have fallen into her face, unheeded and ignored.

"Do you just never go on missions?" I mutter, "Because you always seem to be in the general area of me."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." She laughs. "Besides… I have been on many missions – you've just been in and out of conscious so much that you don't even really remember what's happened the last few months you've been back."

"Few months?" I question… it hasn't been that long, has it? It can't be… I would've know. I would've know. My internal clock would've told me. I would've known.

"It's been just under three months since Jiraiya brought you back. If only been awake and lucid twice since then… well, actually three times counting this time."

I frown… and then realize for the first time that Nozomi's seen me without my mask on – seen me multiple times without my mask on.

"Get out!" I yell as a sit up in unexplainable panic – gritting my teeth against the pain that sears up my back as my stitches pull against torn and sensitive skin. The fact that she's seen my face shouldn't freak me out this much… so why is it?

Her eyes widen in shock at my sudden outburst. "What did I do? Did I say something wrong?" she quietly questions.

"Get the fuck out!"

"Kakashi?" Her forehead creases in worry. "What's wrong?"

"Get out!" I repeat; getting angrier and angrier with every passing millisecond.

She nods and slowly pushes herself off the bed. I watch as she quietly leaves… one last, pleading glance back at me is met with a shake of my head and one last, murmured: "Get out."

Why has the fact that Nozomi's seen my face freak me out so much? Why has it sent me into this blind panic? It's not that big of a deal… it's nothing.

Or is it because I might actually be starting to trust her?

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"Nozomi?"

The young shinobi looks up from the floor. She's sitting in front of the door that leads into Kakashi's hospital room… and the streaks that run down her cheeks tell the Hokage that the girl's been crying.

"Yondaime?" she whispers, quickly rubbing her eyes on the back of her sleeve to try and wipe away the tears that she can't stop.

Arashi kneels down in front of the teary-eyed child that sits in the darkened hallway. He wonders what Nozomi is doing here so late – at nearly two in the morning.

"What's wrong?" he softly asks.

She sniffles and shakes her head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," the Hokage probes, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what I did," she mutters between her hiccupping sobs. "I don't think I said anything that would make him so upset."

Arashi sighs. "Look… Kakashi has a hard time making friends. Maybe he just got freaked out because he feels you're getting to close to him. Give him a little space and come back tomorrow… it might be better."

She shakes her head and wipes more tears away. "He's never going to be able to accept friendship, is he? He's been through too much."

The Hokage smiles. "He's only ten and you're only eleven, you have your whole life to break through his shell – don't give up hope so easily."

She smiles back at Arashi as the Hokage stands up. He holds out his hand to help her up and she takes it. Arashi hoists her up into a standing position and then embraces her to calm her shaking nerves.

And the Hokage is already regretting his words because he doubts that Kakashi will live long enough to ever let Nozomi into his life.

And when did Nozomi become so concerned about Kakashi? Arashi remembers the multiple times that Nozomi had come over to his house to stay with Kakashi when the child had needed someone his age to talk to. And he remembers the times Kakashi had spoke of the girl and how she had often come over to Senji's house to be with Kakashi when he needed someone. But when did the whole relationship even start? And how come no one had really ever noticed her presence until now?

Arashi didn't know the answer to his questions and he sort of wishes that Nozomi had never become entangled with Kakashi's life. It's only going to end badly for the young shinobi.

The Hokage wonders if Kakashi knows just how many people he's touched.

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A knock on the door shakes me from my thoughts. Who would come to see me and yet knock before?

The door squeaks open and in walks Nozomi – smiling brightly despite the fact that the last time we had talked had been over a week ago.

"Someone's here," she whispers excitedly, "I wasn't suppose to come here and tell you but I have anyways."

I raise an eyebrow in question. "Who's here?"

Her smile grows wider and she vaults herself over the foot of my bed to sit, cross-legged, by my feet. "Someone who can help you," she continues in that annoying whisper of hers.

I now raise both eyebrows as I watch her blow a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Can't you just tell me?" I ask.

"Now what fun would that be?" she teases. "You're smart, figure it out yourself. It's not _that_ hard!"

I open my mouth to reply but I'm interrupted by the door opening again. I look up to see a very familiar face framed by very familiar blonde hair.

"Hey kiddo." Tsunade smiles at me. "Can I come in?"

"You actually came," I breathlessly whisper in shock, "You actually came just for me."

"Of course I would." She walks to the side of my bed and ruffles my hair. "How could I refuse coming to help Hatake Kakashi? I've heard a lot about you lately… seems you've garnered quite the reputation now."

I shrug in response and notice for the first time that both Jiraiya and Sensei have also entered the small room.

"How you holding up kid?" Jiraiya asks as Sensei places his hand on Nozomi's shoulder and gently guides her off the bed.

"Fine, I guess," I reply.

Someone places their hand on my shoulder and I jerk away. I quickly twist my upper body around to see who it was… it was Tsunade.

She smiles sadly down at me. "Sorry."

I turn away to stare down at my hands… my hands that are suddenly clutching tightly around my blanket.

"Can you lay down for me?" Tsunade asks and I nod… gently lowering myself down onto the bed.

She pulls the blanket off the bed and sighs. I close my eyes as I let her run her hands just over my body – I can feel her chakra flowing into my body in an attempt to figure out what's exactly wrong with me and whether she can fix it or not.

"Kakashi," she whispers, "There's something in your lungs that shouldn't be there. Were you ever forced to –"

"Tar," I mutter; interrupting her, "Tar and water and…" I hesitate, letting my voice drop to a nearly inaudible whisper, "… and body waste. He called it Water Cure." I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter in a desperate attempt to not remember.

Just don't remember. Don't remember. Don't.remember.don't.remember.don'tfuckingremember!

Tsunade sighs and continues on her examination. She stops again at my knees and gently touches them. I gasp in pain as she moves my knees around as gently as she can to determine whatever she needs to determine.

Eventually her movements stops and I dare to open my eyes. She sighs and turns to talk in hushed whispers with another woman… someone who I vaguely remember as her apprentice. Shizune… I think that's her name.

"I think," she begins, "that with surgery and some proper rehab then Kakashi will be able to regain full use of both shoulders… though I believe there will be some permanent nerve damage to the left shoulder… I also believe that the lungs can be almost completely healed as the main problem with them is just clearing out all the junk that's stuck in them." She sighs and runs a tired hand through her hair. She smiles softly at me. "I'm not entirely sure about how much repair we can do to the knees – I can't determine that until surgery is attempted. There's a good chance we can fix a lot of the damage but I don't want to make any promises. The knees are a touchy area to heal. Also… I'm unsure about what can be done to fix your digestive system – it's been really damaged and there probably isn't much that can be done but if there isn't anything then we'll just have to keep you on vitamins and a strict diet to keep you from becoming malnourished."

"Are you serious?" Sensei asks, and I can hear the badly hidden relief in his voice, "The medic-nins said that there was nothing more that could be done."

Tsunade chuckles. "The medic-nins here are unaccustomed to dealing with injuries this severe so they don't know what to do. Luckily I do know what to do, and luckily for you all you have Jiraiya here to convince me to come back to help."

Sensei nods with a smile on his face and I chuckle.

"What's so funny kiddo?" Jiraiya asks with his own smile gracing his face.

"Nothing," I reply… knowing that it all seems so surreal to me. But even with Tsunade's words I don't dare believe that I'll be fixed until I actually am.

"I would like to speak with you Arashi," Tsunade states and Sensei nods. They both leave, along with Shizune… leaving only Jiraiya and Nozomi left in the room with me.

"Thanks Jiraiya," I say as I push myself back up into a sitting position.

The Sannin nods, still smiling, and quietly leaves.

Nozomi walks over to the edge of the bed and leans over, barely tall enough to reach me, and smiles. "I'm glad that Tsunade's come… you'll be fine now."

"You don't truly know –"

My words are cut off as she lightly kisses me and then leaves with a wide smile on her face. Leaving me sitting there in shock and confusion.

Wait… did she really just kiss me?

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Arashi, Sarutobi, and Jiraiya stand in silence in the observation room of Operating Room #4 where Hatake Kakashi now lays unconscious; being prepared for surgery.

"Tsunade's not actually doing the surgery, is she?" Sarutobi quietly asks.

Jiraiya shakes his head. "No, her hemophobia makes surgery impossible for her to do. She'll be standing back and observing, offering help if needed. But for the most part Shizune will be doing the surgery and Tsunade has told me that she has full confidence in her apprentice."

"That doesn't really help my nerves," Arashi mutters as he sits down. "And I don't really know if I should be watching this… it's going to be too long for me to sit here all nervous."

"Tsunade did predict that the surgery would be over six hours since they're doing everything at once," Jiraiya mutters, "Better for Kakashi's heart to only put him under once instead of multiple different times."

Jiraiya sits down beside his former student. "How much have you had to drink today?" he cautiously ask.

"More then I should," the Hokage replies… he's come to the realization that there's no point in hiding his drinking from his former sensei anymore because the man sees right through every lie he tells.

"Well… take comfort in the fact that for today you aren't alone in that," Jiraiya whispers as he gently squeezes Arashi's shoulder in comfort.

"They're starting," Sarutobi states as he stands by the window. "Let's hope for all our sakes that this is successful."

"Kakashi's been through too much to not pull through this," Jiraiya says in an attempt to comfort everyone.

But no comfort can be given to the shaking nerves of the only three people allowed to watch this dangerous surgery.

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Tsunade takes a deep breath as she slowly passes chain after chain of chakra through Kakashi's skin and into the child's lungs to remove the residue left in the air sacs after the Water Cure torture he had endured. She's almost done and is quite happy with the results so far.

She sighs in relief as the final chakra chain pulls out of Kakashi's body – nearly two hours after the first one entered – and empties its contents into the bowl on the nearby table. This is the only part of the surgery that she'll do herself because it's the only part of the surgery that doesn't involve blood.

Tsunade nods to Shizune and moves to the back of the room. Within the next hour Shizune is still operating on Kakashi's lungs to help repair the torn air sacs that Tsunade cleared earlier. This fact causes Tsunade to worry a little bit as it shouldn't be taking this long.

"Tsunade," Shizune's shaking voice breaks the still silence. "I think we're –"

Loud beeping cuts off Shizune's sentence and causes all the assistance nurses to spring into action.

"He's bleeding out!" Shizune's panicked voice yells out as she removes her arms from Kakashi's lungs and moves out of the way to allow the nurses to do their work.

Tsunade rubs her eyes in nerves and a desperate attempt to calm her racing heart. "Then stop the bleeding."

"His heart's failing!" A nurse calls out as another machine adds to the rapid beeping.

"We can't stop the bleeding!" Another nurse calls out.

"You're useless, focus!" Shizune mutters as she pushes a nurse out of her way.

The apprentice focuses chakra through her hands and into Kakashi's lungs to attempt to stop the bleeding that the nurses failed to contain.

"I've clotted the bleeding," Shizune states with a sigh of relief.

"His heart's still failing. He's going to go into congestive heart failure!"

"Tsunade!" Shizune yells out in panic. "We're going to lose him! What do we do?"

Tsunade mutters something inaudible under her breath. "Shock him!" she orders.

Shizune looks at her sensei in annoyance and shock. "How can we do that when the kid's chest is cut right open?"

"He's flat-lining!" A nurse calls out… her message being accompanied by the long, chilling tone of the heart monitoring machine.

Tsunade takes a deep breath and moves to her apprentices side. "Out of the way! And get me the paddles!"

"You can't shock him!" Shizune argues. "There's no skin to put the paddles on around the heart!"

"We don't need skin," Tsunade explains as she disconnects the paddles from their wires. "Just wire. And get in there and use your chakra to keep the kid's blood flowing!"

Shizune nods and moves to the other side of Kakashi… within seconds she has her chakra acting as a temporary heart – pumping blood back through the child's body.

Tsunade takes the two wire previously connected to the shock paddles and turns to face the unconscious body of her patient.

The blood that coats his skin causes Tsunade to freeze up and she makes no movement. Shizune curses under her breath and orders one of the nurses to take her place.

Shizune moves to Tsunade's side and takes the two wires from her sensei's shaking hands. She can hear Tsunade's short, panicked breaths. The young apprentice pushes Tsunade back so that she stands against the far wall.

"Forget about the blood," she whispers in urgency, "Where were you planning on placing the wires?"

"If we don't get his heart going soon we're going to lose him! There's going to be brain damage!" a nurse calls out in concern.

"Shut-up!" Shizune shouts back. She turns back to Tsunade and questions, in a quite tone: "Where do the wires go?"

"At… at…" Tsunade stammers as she tries to get her bearings. "I… I need to get out of here," she mutters.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me where to put the goddamn wires!" Shizune orders. "After that you can go wherever your heart desires. Just tell me where the wires go!"

"On his… his heart."

"That will kill him!" Shizune rubs her eyes in frustration. "Are you insane! Have you lost your mind!"

"It's the only chance we have," Tsunade mutters, "It's either take the chance or Kakashi dies for sure. It's your choice now."

Shizune curses under her breath and returns to the operating table. She takes a deep breath and calls a nurse over to work the machine. The nurse that's using her chakra as a temporary heart removes her hands and steps back.

Shizune places the two wires on the still heart; one on the top right and the other on the bottom left. "Clear!" she calls out and the nurse presses the button on the machine that sends electricity down the wires.

The heart jumps but doesn't continue beating. Shizune shifts her grip on the wires to make sure she only touches the safe rubber covering and not the actual wires. "Clear!" she calls out again.

Again the heart jumps but doesn't continue on beating. Time after time Shizune shocks the heart but it doesn't seem to work.

The apprentice sighs and wipes the sweat off her forehead onto her shoulder. "Tsunade," she whispers, "We've lost him. Call the time of death."

The Sannin looks up from her slumped position sitting on the floor. "No."

Shizune whirls around in anger. "Just call the time of death! We've lost him, his heart isn't starting… it's dead!"

"One more time," Tsunade mutters.

Shizune sighs and turns back around. "Clear!" she calls out.

Again the heart is shocked and again nothing comes of it.

"It's done Tsunade... call the time of death," Shizune whispers.

"Just once more. I didn't come all the way here just for Kakashi to die on me," the Sannin mutters.

"No! Call the time of death!"

Tsunade's eyes flash with anger. "One more time!"

Shizune curses, once again, and shocks the kid's heart. "Nothing," she whispers.

Tsunade curses, quite colourfully, under her breath. "It can't…"

The heart monitoring machine starts to beep again… slowly at first but it begins to beat faster and faster – returning to the speed of a normal heart beat. Tsunade walks over to the monitoring machine and stares at the line as it slowly jumps up and down in time with the beeps. She turns her head to make eye contact with her apprentice.

Shizune shrugs. "It's beating. But the oxygen deprivation… he could have major brain damage… plus organ damage. We should stop the surgery – it's useless to continue if Kakashi's brain damaged."

"No," Tsunade says, "Continue with the surgery. Leave the lungs alone though; I don't want to risk him bleeding out again. What's not healed in the lungs will never be healed, let's just hope it's enough to allow him to breathe at least somewhat properly."

"Should I cut into his digestive tract or just stitch his chest closed and move on to the shoulders?" Shizune asks quietly.

"Just go to the shoulders… see what can be done to repair the nerves and tendons there."

Shizune nods and Tsunade returns to her place at the wall. She stands in quite concern as she watches the surgery from her position – making sure to not focus on any of the red liquid that just might be blood. She's absolutely amazed that the kid is still alive, that his heart managed to start beating after nearly twenty minutes of still silence.

Five hours later the surgery is over. The final operating time adding up to eight hours and twenty-three minutes; over two hours then predicted.

Tsunade leaves the operating room and makes her way up to the observation room. She knows that the surgery was a success in every way except for the seventeen minutes in which Kakashi's heart had flat-lined.

She pushes the door open and cringes at the immediate voice that reaches her ears.

"What happened!" Arashi yells at her.

Tsunade takes a deep breath. "He flat-lined… quite possibly at the worst time in the surgery too. But we got his heart beating again –"

"After twenty minutes!" Arashi interrupts. "How could you let that happen!"

"Calm down," Jiraiya whispers as he grabs his former student's shoulder to try and keep him in control. "Let Tsunade explain."

Arashi takes a deep breath and nods at the medic-nin.

"The surgery was successful in every aspect except when Kakashi's heart flat-lined for seventeen minutes. The damage in his shoulders and knees was repairable though there is going to be some permanent nerve damage to his left shoulder and some permanent damage to the tendons in his left knee. Both are minor enough that it shouldn't affect him too much." Tsunade sighs. "Unfortunately we couldn't completely clear his lungs for there was fear that he would bleed out and go into congestive heart failure again… so his lungs will have approximately fifty-five to sixty percent capacity ability but Kakashi should still be able to be a shinobi. Also, it was too risky to cut into his digestive tract so we didn't… hopefully will be able to keep his nutrition up with medication and meal plans."

"He flat-lined," Arashi whispers, "Did that not cause any permanent damage?"

Tsunade runs her hand tiredly through her hair. "We don't know. He's brain was deprived of oxygen for quite some time, along with his other organs, there may be damage there may not be."

Arashi visible pales. "Damage?" he questions, "As in brain damage?"

Tsunade sadly nods. "We won't know until he wakes up. Until then we can only hope that no permanent damage was done."

"When will he wake up?" Jiraiya asks, squeezing Arashi's shoulder tightly to try and steady the shaking Hokage.

"Probably not for a couple of days. I wouldn't recommend a lot of visitors when he first wakes up… we don't know what condition his brain will be in."

"Thank you Tsunade," Sarutobi speaks up, "But I think you should go now."

The medic-nin nods and quietly leaves – letting the three friends have their privacy to deal with the news of this surgery.

It might've been a success but Tsunade really hates the seventeen minutes that destroyed the prospect of delivering the news of a perfect surgery to the three waiting shinobis.

"Seventeen minutes," Tsunade mutters, "Just seventeen fucking minutes."

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_**Densetsu no Kamo: **_The Legendary Sucker – Tsunade's nickname in reference to her horrible luck with gambling.


End file.
